Into the Grey House
by pdd912
Summary: A twisted plan is set in motion, one that leads Bella into the home of mysterious businessman, Edward Cullen. What follows is a game of seduction that soon spirals out of control, leading to deadly obsession. E/B, AH, D/s, DARK FIC.
1. The Interview

**WARNING: THIS IS A DARK ****_FANTASY_****. IT IS NOT ABOUT THE BDSM COMMUNITY OR HOW TO PRACTICE SAFE, SANE AND CONSENSUAL BDSM (WHICH YOU SHOULD). IT'S MEANT TO GET YOU HORNY, NOT INFORM YOU. IF THIS KIND OF FANTASY DOESN'T EXCITE YOU, PLEASE DON'T READ.**

** Into the Grey House is a mixture of erotica and suspense/mystery. It's meant to read like an old-fashioned gothic romance novel, complete with all the things that make that genre so much fun - creepy old house, mysterious hero, strange servants, dark foreshadowing, and a good girl trapped in a spooky situation. Think Dark Shadows, the original series from the 1960s. **

* * *

The summer of 1966 was a very hot one. Bella had suffered the discomfort of Chicago's humid summer for as long as she could. It was intolerable. Insufferable! A string of 'if only's' filled her thoughts. If only she had chosen some other city to move to after the tragedy that claimed her parents' lives. If only the summer were not so hot. If only the air conditioner hadn't stopped working. If only she lived in a more efficient building, where appliances were quickly repaired.

But Bella did not live in a fancy apartment building. She could not afford to. Since she had lost her employment with Mr. Reynolds, for whom she had acted as personal assistant in his freight company, she had been completely unable to find another position. It was really too bad that his company was so hard hit by the recent economic downturn! What was she to do?

Her fiancé, Mike, believed that they should move the date of their wedding forward so that she could more quickly come to live with him at his posh flat. Mike worked for a busy, high-powered law firm and could easily afford a nice place to live. But what he couldn't seem to understand was that she was in no hurry to rush their wedding. She loved Mike, but was still very nervous of the prospect of marrying someone she had known for such a short time, only a few months. What if it was a mistake? Besides, she did not like the idea of entering marriage completely dependent on him. It was a matter of pride.

One morning, though, it seemed that all her problems would be solved. The morning paper had an advertisement for a personal assistant to Mr. Edward Cullen, owner and proprietor of the Cullen Agency. The Cullen Agency was a management company which handled the business and personal affairs of top entertainers around the nation. The position sounded both interesting and profitable. She looked forward to meeting Mr. Cullen and perhaps winning the job.

But when she told her fiancé about the advertisement, he looked skeptical.

"I don't know," he said. "I've heard a lot of weird stuff about that man, Mr. Cullen."

"What do you mean by 'weird'?" she asked.

"I can't really say. I don't know the details, anyway. But I _can_ tell you this, my law firm has been engaged to cover up some sort of unseemly, and most likely illegal, behavior."

Bella was unaffected by his words. He always put things so staidly, and had the bad habit of blowing things out of proportion.

"Do you think I should pass up the only solid job opportunity to come my way all summer because of something he might or might not have done? Something which might or might not be illegal and unseemly? If I avoided every establishment that had engaged in that type of business, I would never find another position," she argued.

"Listen, Bella!" Mike said firmly. "I absolutely forbid you to take that job!"

Forbid? For Bella, that sounded more like a dare. Her fiance always tried to take this paternal, dominant stance with her, and she always bristled under it. For a girl raised in the very provinicial, very traditional small-town of Forks, WA, she had very nontraditional ideas. One of which being that no man would ever think he could rule her, husband or not.

She let the matter drop, but still had every intention of pursuing the position. To that end, she quickly wrote and sent a letter of interest to Mr. Edward Cullen. A few days later, she received a reply which cordially invited her to visit him at 2:00 p.m. the following afternoon.

Bella was nervous and excited as she walked to her appointment the next day. She had chosen her outfit with care, wanting to look both attractive and efficient. Her shoulder-length, brown hair was meticulously brushed and capped with a smart, yellow hat which matched the dress she wore. The dress complimented her slight, yet feminine, frame and brought out the chocolate in her eyes. She thought she looked very nice, but was concerned that the heat of the day would ruin her outfit and the impression she would make. Already she could feel sweat form on her body. Damp tendrils of her hair stuck to her forehead.

Before she was much more melted, she came to the address she was seeking. It was obviously Mr. Cullen's actual residence. From the outside, the home was quite impressive, almost overwhelming. It was made of grey stone and was fronted by a heavy oaken door. It had to have cost quite a large sum of money.

As she was shown inside by the housekeeper, she realized that every window was heavily draped so that no light from the outside could seep in. It was a somber home. Almost eerie. She wondered whether she could really work for such people, but then checked herself. Obviously, she was letting her imagination run away with her, probably influenced by Mike's strange warning.

"You wait here," the housekeeper said abruptly.

She was a strange woman. Her hair was red, like wild flames, thick and long. Her eyes green. She was an attractive woman, with porcelain skin and a generous mouth. And her figure was pleasant, round in all the right places. It was not her looks that were unpleasant so much as her attitude. She almost seemed to dislike Bella. Before she turned to fetch her master, her eyes flickered over Bella's figure contemptuously and she smiled slightly, maliciously.

Bella waited uneasily in the hallway, put off by the disrespectful manner of the housekeeper. Maybe she should leave? Before she had a chance to decide, a gentleman who was obviously Mr. Cullen strode into the room. He was tall and well-proportioned and when he entered the room, he seemed to own it. His hair was red-brown, thick and a little unruly. His eyes were green, with the slightest crinkles beginning at the corners as he smiled politely. Bella judged him to be perhaps 30 years of age.

"Good afternoon, Miss Swan," he said as he shook her hand. His grip was quite strong. "I am so glad you could come."

"Thank you," she replied.

They entered a study and sat down for the interview. She was ready to discuss her qualifications for the position, but Mr. Cullen seemed more interested in her personal history. He asked for her age. Twenty-two. Did she have family in the area? She had no family at all. Was she seeing anyone in particular. Yes, she was. The answers seemed to intrigue him.

She tried to bring the interview back to a more professional level.

"I have worked before as a personal assistant," she stated. "For Mr. Reynolds, for his shipping company. I believe he will give me a very good reference."

"I have no doubt about that. You see, I have already checked your professional references, after I received your letter. And after speaking with you, I believe you would be perfect for this position."

Bella was thrilled, although still somewhat apprehensive based on the odd situation she had found at the home, especially Mr. Cullen's odd interest in her personal life. But still, it was a good position and it was only natural that he would have some interest in her as a person, if they were to work so closely.

"What exactly would my duties be?"

"You will assist me. Your duties will evolve daily, based on the necessities of the day," he replied, smiling slightly, as if at some private joke.

"And where will my office be?"

"Here actually, just beyond this study. There is a hallway through that door there," he pointed. "Beyond the hall is a group of offices out of which I run my agency."

"So the entire business is run from your home?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, that brings me to the next order of business." His green eyes studied her face for a moment. "Due to the nature of my work, the hours are unpredictable. You understand, our product is the success of the people we represent. It can not be handled strictly on a nine-to-five schedule."

"Of course not," she replied hastily.

"For that reason, it is usual for my personal assistant to be available to me at all hours."

She wasn't entirely certain that she liked the turn of conversation, but she still desperately needed the job and decided that she would be willing to work unusual hours in order to retain it.

"Of course," she replied.

Again, he seemed to study her, as if looking for an answer to something he had not yet asked. She grew uncomfortable under his gaze, her normally cool composure faltering. Her eyes dropped from his.

_How is he able to unsettle me so easily?_ she wondered.

Whatever he had been wondering seemed to have been settled in his mind. He continued speaking to her in his cool, controlled voice. "To that end, this home is equipped with living quarters for my personal assistant. The apartment is part of the salary, including the cost of utilities, of course."

"Apartment?"

"Yes. Just at the top of the stairs. A one bedroom. It also has a living room, kitchen, and bathroom. You will find it a very satisfactory, self-contained home. It is attractive and comfortable and is kept wonderfully cool in the summer and warm in the winter."

"It has air-conditioning?" She could not believe her good luck!

"Of course. It is connected with the system that heats and cools the entire house."

Bella's mind was suddenly made up.

"Mr. Cullen, you are too kind. That is a very generous offer. I would be pleased to start immediately."

She surprised herself with her quick answer. It was a decision she had first intended to discuss with Mike, but she was suddenly eager to give her decision right then.

* * *

I hope you enjoy the story. The characters do not belong to me, of course, they belong to Stephenie Meyer.


	2. Arriving

She returned to her overheated apartment. This would be the last evening spent within these walls and though she was just as eager to leave as before, she was also somehow reluctant, as though the familiar rooms had become a safe harbor for her. She did not know what it was she believed the apartment kept her safe from, however. Sure, her new employer was mysterious and the home and servants were rather strange, but she believed they were basically harmless.

On the other hand, Mike was very unhappy with her decision. They argued bitterly.

"Look, Bella, it's not too late to change your mind. Don't go tomorrow," he insisted. They were seated in her living room, side by side on the couch.

"No," she replied. "I've already given my promise. I can't go back on it. Besides," she cajoled, "if I don't like it, I can leave at any time."

She leaned forward to give him a peck on the cheek. She pulled away as he tried to capture her mouth, leaping up to switch on a window fan. It was getting much too hot already. A fine film of sweat had begun to form on her face and body.

"Honestly, I'll let you know everyday how it's going and if things become uncomfortable for me, I will leave immediately," she assured him.

Mike watched her from his seat on the couch. His next words surprised her.

"I'm afraid not, Bella. You see, I'll be going out of town tomorrow. I'm being sent to New York on business. I don't know when I will be able to return."

She was crestfallen. She had counted on him being there for her.

"I will miss you very much," she told him softly, as she sat back down beside him.

At her words, he smiled and patted her hand reassuringly.

"Write to me," he said. "And call. You're bound to have a phone."

"Yes. I suppose I will."

But somehow, she doubted it. Mr. Cullen had not mentioned a private phone and she could hardly make long distance calls daily.

"You can always call me," she added.

He promised to do so, as soon as he was settled in New York. She gave him the phone number and address of her new employer.

As she told him goodbye that evening, she allowed him to kiss her much more ardently than was normal. One of his hands slipped into her hair as the other one grasped her around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. She felt safe and warm in his arms, but as often happened at the first stirrings of response within herself, she felt a curtain come down, dampening those flames. She would never allow him, or any man, to have her before they wed. There was no point in following these feelings any further.

Mike pulled away, releasing his hold on her, but laying one last, chaste, kiss upon her forehead.

"Goodbye, my innocent girl."

"Please don't sound so sad," she said.

He smiled, placed his hat on his head, and left.

As he left, her heart sank. She had never felt so alone.

That evening she spent a very humid, sleepless night in her old apartment. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to get comfortable in the wretched heat, and also unable to let go of the events of the day. Her thoughts returned again and again to her new employer. Edward Cullen. She supposed he was a handsome man, but something more than his outward appearance intrigued her. No matter which way she turned the matter over in her mind, however, she was simply unable to put her finger on what about him had her so unsettled.

The next day, she packed her meager possessions and arranged for the release of her apartment. She attended to the few other matters that needed to be arranged before moving into her new home, and then made her way to the grey house. It was no less impressive the next day. Despite the late afternoon sun, she felt a chill steal over her and she shuddered, her hand hesitating before grasping the brass knocker.

_Ridiculous!_ she chided herself.

The housekeeper, whom she would later learn was named Victoria, answered her knock. She moved aside to allow Bella entrance into the home, her face again betraying some form of insolence Bella could not identify as she passed.

"G-Good afternoon," Bella greeted her hesitantly.

"Good afternoon," Victoria said in reply. She eyed the suitcases Bella carried.

"I will take those," she said, snatching them and marching up the stairs.

"Hey, wait!" Bella called, starting after her. This was really too much!

A door opened from somewhere down the hall.

"Is something wrong?" Mr. Cullen asked, stepping into the entryway.

She turned to face him.

"No, sir. Not wrong exactly. I just would like to know where she is going with my things." Bella pointed to Victoria's disappearing figure.

"To your rooms, of course," he replied smoothly.

_Her rooms!_

"Are my rooms open to everyone, then?" She tried to keep her voice smooth, but she heard the telltale quiver that generally preceeded her tears. She cried whenever she was angry or very upset, and at that moment, she was both.

"Not usually. She has a key, however. You don't mind, do you?" He eyed her, his mouth twitching slightly, as though amused by her obvious agitation.

_Deep Breaths,_ she reminded herself. She needed to remain calm. Professional.

"To be honest, I'm not too happy about her having a key to my apartment. I'd much rather have my privacy," she told him.

"Of course," he agreed. "But the servants are expected to care for my entire home, including your apartment. That is what they are paid to do. I assure you, Victoria can be trusted completely. She is my most reliable servant."

He smiled at her, but there was no sign of retreat in that smile. There would be no compromise on this matter. Not at this time, anyway.

Not wishing to seem difficult, she acquiesced, although reluctantly. She decided to bring the matter to his attention again at some later time, to let him know she would rather have her key back.

In her apartment, she found reason for further outrage. Victoria had opened her suitcases and was putting her things away rather carelessly. All her clothes were shoved together in the drawers. The desire to protest again flamed up inside of her, but this time she held her tongue. In truth, she found the woman rather intimidating, and more than that, she knew her protests would be brushed aside, both by the housekeeper and Mr. Cullen. The unease she'd felt since yesterday nagged at her again.

When Victoria had finished putting away her things, Bella thanked her, but the housekeeper appeared even more perturbed by this.

Her green eyes flashed onto Bella's face.

"I don't do anything for you," she sneered. "I take care of this house and everything in it for my master."

And with that, she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Bella shaken, her face flushed in consternation.

She spent the rest of the afternoon settling into her new apartment. She found the room comfortable, as promised, and very cool from the air conditioning. A light perfume hung in the air that she found soothing.

"What a wonderful scent!" she thought. "But where is it coming from?"

She looked around the room for the source of the pleasant perfume, but could never locate it. There wasn't a bowl of potpourri or even a single stick of incense in the entire apartment.

"Odd. Perhaps it's the cleaner Victoria uses," she concluded.

That evening she dined with her employer in the well-furnished dining room. The meal was enjoyable enough. Mr. Cullen, being both charming and intelligent, carried on a pleasant conversation with her. After dinner, they retired into the drawing room, Mr. Cullen indicating that she should sit with him. She sipped her glass of wine as he did the same. He seemed disinclined to speak with her now, and she felt it was inappropriate for her to appear overfriendly or forward with him. Thus, a silence enveloped them. Just as she had come to believe that they would sit this way for the rest of the evening, he spoke to her.

"How are you settling in to your new home?" he asked.

"Fine, thank you."

"Your rooms are quite comfortable?"

"Yes, sir. They're beautiful. Also, there is a most wonderful perfume in the rooms. Do you know what it is?"

"That's the air freshener that comes through the air vents throughout the house. Inhale deeply, Miss Swan. You will notice the scent in here as well."

She did as instructed and realized he was right. She looked away from him, spying the airvents, now. When she looked back, she found his eyes on her. She fidgeted. He was peering at her face now, but she could not fight the uneasy feeling that his eyes had been elsewhere, taking advantage of her lack of attention to wander over her figure.

_Stop it, Bella!_ _You're letting your imagination take a dangerous turn! _she chastised herself.

She would not allow herself to even imagine something so unseemly. If she was to maintain her employment and continue living in the home, things must remain on a strictly professional level between herself and Edward Cullen.

Mr. Cullen continued. ""It's very pleasant, isn't it? I wish for my home to be as pleasant as possible. The perfume helps."

"Yes, sir. I quite agree. It's very nice," she said.

He smiled at her and took a sip of his wine. His eyes held hers, looking deeply into their chocolate depths. She felt her cheeks grow warm before letting her eyes drop from his. He _was_ impertinent! The suspicion of impropriety was growing into certainty and she briefly considered gathering her belongings and leaving immediately. But, of course, she had nowhere to go. No apartment waiting. No fiance. This reality, which normally would have brought her to the brink of despair, was strangely not as worrying as perhaps it should have been.

_After all, _she thought. _I can handle myself. I'm a capable adult._

She resolved to keep her door locked at night and maintain a careful distance from her employer during the day.

Later, she retired to her rooms for a good night's sleep, but was unable to find the peace she wanted. Strange dreams plagued her. Nightmares of sinister figures that stalked her down long hallways. Animal creatures that attacked her. She awoke with a scream, her heart pounding in her ears.

She slept again, but was plagued once more by strange dreams. Dreams such as she had never had before, of things she had never even considered. Frankly sexual, even bizarre, in nature. And when she awoke from these dreams, she was again flushed and panting, but not from fear. It was an entirely new feeling that possessed her now. A strange aching and longing for something she couldn't quite understand.

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	3. Bella's Dreams

**WARNING: THIS IS A DARK ****_FANTASY_****. IT IS NOT ABOUT THE BDSM COMMUNITY OR HOW TO PRACTICE SAFE, SANE AND CONSENSUAL BDSM (WHICH YOU SHOULD). IT'S FAPPING MATERIAL, NOT INFORMATION. **

The next morning, she rose from bed, still feeling somewhat groggy, no doubt from the very poor night's sleep she'd had. Strange, how vivid the dreams had been. Red crept into her cheeks as she remembered the dreams she'd had late into the night.

Shaking her head to clear it of these thoughts, she turned to her wardrobe to begin assembling what she would wear for the day. Something smart, but not too confining. After all, she wanted to be comfortable. In the end, she settled for a navy blue skirt and silk blouse with a pair of low heels. She went through her morning routine- bathing, grooming, dressing-and then hurried down the stairs to join her employer for breakfast. He'd informed her the night before that the workday would begin at breakfast, as they went over the agenda for the day and new assignments were given.

He looked her over as she entered the room, seeming pleased with her appearance. However, he said nothing, other than a simple, "Good morning," which she returned in kind. She sat at the table with him and helped herself to the breakfast items already placed in front of her. Victoria approached with a coffee pot. She stood beside Bella, pouring hot coffee into the cup in front of her.

"Thank you," Bella said.

Again, Victoria sneered. Although, with her master present, she did not speak.

Once the other woman was gone, Bella broached the topic of the strange woman's insolent behavior. However, as predicted, Mr. Cullen waved her concerns aside.

"Victoria is a trifle...high strung. But she is exceptionally efficient. Trustworthy. Very obedient." He leaned forward, inclining his head towards her and giving her a piercing look. "I would suggest that you put the matter of Victoria out of your mind. Concentrate on your own duties."

Bella felt her face burn with the rebuke. She looked away from him, lowering her gaze. It was true that the household staff was not her concern. Still, she felt the rebuke had been too harsh and knew that not too long ago, such words would have brought an immediate retort from her. But not today.

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

He leaned back and resumed his breakfast. She did the same. As warned, it was a working breakfast. A rough schedule was worked out, the first item of the day being a tour of the rest of the home and the grounds. The first part of the tour was conducted by Victoria, who showed her the various rooms in the home, paying special care to point out the servant's entrance she was expected to come and go from, located in the kitchen. The second part of the tour, over the grounds, was led by Emmett, the groundskeeper.

"All around Mr. Fix-it, too," he declared with a big, easy smile. He was a large man, with the sort of solid, muscular physique one generally associates with men who do hard, manual labor.

Emmett showed her around the back garden. It was a good size, by town standards, large and well-manicured. The entire thing, she noted, was enclosed by a very high stone fence.

"It's very nice," she told him. "You do a wonderful job."

"Well, thank you," he laughed. "Maybe you can talk to the boss man about a raise for me."

"Do you like working here?" she impulsively asked, lulled perhaps by his easy manner.

His smile grew, if anything, even wider. "I love it! This is a great place to work," he declared.

Once her tour was over, she returned to the house and entered, finally, her new office. It was well-stocked and organized. She immediately began her duties, tackling the many tasks that Mr. Cullen had laid out for her that morning. In some ways, the tasks set out for her seemed much more interesting than any other she'd ever associated with a job. But in other ways, in the end, it was simply work, and as such, she was very glad when the evening came and her employer dismissed her for the evening.

When she finally retired to her apartments that evening, drained and eager for sleep, her thoughts returned uneasily to the nightmares of the night before. She prayed for a dreamless night.

But instead of receiving this dark, dreamless sleep, she was visited again by strange, vivid dreams.

At one point, there seemed to be a blurring of dream and reality, for it really did seem to her that she had opened her eyes and found Mr. Cullen standing in her room, right beside the bed. And as she watched him through her dreaming eye, he sat beside her on the bed, pulling down the covers to expose her sleeping form. He lifted up her nightgown, tucking it below her chin, and fully exposing her breasts and legs, though her most intimate places remained encased in white panties. In the dream, she watched him passively, somehow unable to move, as he studied her nude frame. He examined her breasts, toying with the nipples until they were hard, running his finger round and round each peak.

He then moved on to the cleft between her legs, pulling down her panties, and spreading her legs in order to examine her most intimate, most private of spots. After a moment, he began to touch what before he had only examined. With cool efficiency, he stroked her, quickly seeking out and finding that spot on her which was most responsive. His fingers quickly found a rhythm, one that soon brought an involuntary moan to her lips. She began to move in time with his fingers. No matter the shame such a thing as this would normally cause her. In the dream, she was powerless to resist it. Unable to break the contact. His knowing fingers soon brought her to a climax, followed by sinking into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

In the morning, the shame of what she had dreamed colored her every interaction with her employer. As they sat at the breakfast table, she felt almost as if he _knew_ what she had dreamed the night before and that deep within his eyes' green orbs there was a certain knowledge, a _carnal_ knowledge of her, of her naked form, her secret desires. Time and again, her gaze would fall upon his hands, watching his fingers conform to the shape of the coffee cup, or follow their motion as he ran his fingers through his hair, and she would remember how they had felt on her in her dream. Their sure, unerring motions in her most intimate of places. And every time, she would blush scarlet, her voice would falter in answering some question, and her eyes would look away, look at anything other than Mr. Edward Cullen.

And always, she imagined she saw that same gleam of secret knowledge in the depths of his eyes.

Finally able to retreat to her office, she threw herself into her duties with a determination and attention to detail heretofore never seen. Trying to concentrate every ounce of her attention on her work. Sparing none for Mr. Edward Cullen. And perhaps her plan might have worked. Perhaps she would have been able to adhere to her resolve to keep a careful distance between herself and Mr. Cullen, if it hadn't been for the man himself, who seemed to thwart her efforts at every turn. Several times throughout the day, he would buzz her, requesting her immediate presence. And every time, she would go to him immediately only to be made to stand beside him, unacknowledged and seemingly-for all the notice he gave her-unneeded.

This irked her more than any other thing that had happened to her since she had arrived.

_As if I have nothing else to do,_ she fumed. _Nothing but to stand here, like some unused office equipment._

Only once did she dare attempt to leave before being dismissed. She had stood beside him for a number of minutes as he leafed through documents, ignoring her as if she were nothing but a common lamp, before finally resolving to leave, to return to her office and complete her afternoon assignments. He'd probably forgotten she was even there. So deciding, she turned silently, walking towards the door, when she found herself unable to move. She looked behind and saw that he had grabbed her shirt from behind.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, his handsome face suffused with anger.

"To my office," Bella admitted. "I didn't think you'd notice."

"Then you would be wrong," he stated. "Please, turn around and come back over here. I will dismiss you when you are no longer needed."

She returned to stand beside him, blinking back tears of anger. Clearly she was angry with him, bristling under his overbearing manner. But she was angrier with herself for accepting it.

Notwithstanding these irritations, the workday passed in its normal way, providing some distraction from her growing fascination for her employer. And she retired that night, ready for the oblivion that sleep would provide, but it was not to be.

That evening brought a renewal of her bizarre, waking-dreams. Again, she felt as though she had opened her eyes to find Mr. Cullen beside her bed. Again, he lifted the covers, pulled up her gown, and lowered her panties. But instead of merely looking or touching, he actually lowered his mouth to the furrow between her widespread legs, tasting her secret flower. From somewhere deep inside of her, a protest at this deepest of shame roared to life. Despite the heaviness of her sleep, she fought to swim to the surface, to push the phantom away, to close her legs, but a greater heaviness stole over her, seeming to clutch her arms and hold her legs apart. She lay helpless, exposed completely to this phantom lover, as he lapped and licked at her soft folds, zeroing in with certain knowledge, toying and teasing her until she cried out with both pleasure and shame at the ecstasy that had been forced upon her.

The morning sun greeted her the next day, but instead of leaping out of bed, as was her usual habit, she lay still for several moments, taking stock of herself. Everything seemed to be as it should be. Her clothes were arranged exactly as they had been the night before. She concluded it truly must have been a dream.

_But it had seemed so real! So vivid!_

Perhaps someone had actually come into the house last night and had taken the opportunity to molest her? Perhaps Mr. Cullen had actually come into her room?

She dressed slowly, her mind elsewhere. Finally, she resolved to ask the other residents of the house whether they had noticed anything unusual during the night. So deciding, she immediately sought out the housekeeper.

She found Victoria in the kitchen, busy with the breakfast things. She hesitated in front of her, nervous.

"Victoria," she began. "I wonder, um...I mean, last night..." She broke off as the preposterousness of what she was going to ask struck her. And more than that, she realized that her query might open the door for questions to be asked, as well. Questions she might not wish to answer. Victoria might demand to know what had happened last night to have made her so unsettled. She did not wish to discuss her dreams with anyone, but particularly not with Victoria , who actually seemed to hate her.

As she hesitated in front of her, the housekeeper watched her with mocking eyes, mouth curved with a slight smile. "Is anything the matter?" she asked.

"No," Bella stated, making up her mind. Never in a million years would she discuss these things with the housekeeper.

She turned on her heel and made her way to the breakfast room. As was usual, Edward was already seated at the table, sipping his morning coffee and reading the newspaper. A streak of sunlight filtering in through a gap in the drapes seemed to paint him in a golden light. He really was an extraordinarily handsome man, she realized with something of a shock. She tried to push this realization away, but it was a futile effort.

Her discomfort in interacting with him was magnified ten fold. Every glance she gave him brought fresh memories to mind. His mouth now held special interest for her. She had never noticed before how perfectly it was made, the lips full, soft. She felt herself burn with the memory of what that mouth had done to her in her dreams. Her face flushed, as did the rest of her body, burning with a now named need.

After she was dismissed for the evening, she returned to her rooms, to lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking only of Edward Cullen. Try as she might to push thoughts of him aside, she could not. Soon, she would descend the stairs and join him in the dining room. The thought pleased her more than it should. She only felt truly alive when she was with him. And when the inconstancy of this thought struck her, she fought even harder against her growing obsession with him. Trying to replace thoughts of him with thoughts of Mike, but all in vain. Time and again, her thoughts strayed back to him. With a sad pang she realized that Mike had never brought out the depth of feeling from her that Edward Cullen did.

_How can that be? _she wondered.

Seeing no easy answer, she sighed and smoothed her hair before leaving her rooms.

The evening meal passed pleasantly. The conversation, as usual, was witty and entertaining. If she had any complaint it was that Mr. Cullen continued in quizzing her. He seemed determined to know everything about her. No bit of information was beneath his curiosity. She answered all of his questions patiently, even asking a few of her own from time to time.

At the end of the evening, he walked her to the entryway.

"Good night, Miss Swan," he said. "Sleep well."

"Thank you, sir," she replied. "I'll see you in the morning."

As she turned to leave, he spoke.

"Wait," he commanded.

She halted at the foot of the stairs.

"Turn around," he said.

Again, she did as he said. She turned to see him striding towards her, purposefully, yet still somehow cautiously, as though calculating her responses. He halted directly in front of her, a mere arm's length away. As seemed to be usual that day, her eyes were again riveted to his mouth. His lips were slightly parted.

"Stay very still," he commanded her.

She tried to do as he had ordered, holding herself rigid under his scrutiny. He stepped even closer to her, until they were actually touching, his head lowered, mouth moving with infintesimal slowness to hers. Anticipation burned through her, sent a shiver through her limbs as a need to grasp him and pull his lips to hers coursed through her.

"Don't move," he said sharply.

She fought to control her trembling. To hold very still for him. Finally, his mouth met hers, softly at first, then becoming rougher as the kiss deepened, his hands grasping her face. Bella's breath came out in a deep sigh as her master took possession of her mouth. She opened herself to him, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth as his hands explored her face. When one of those hands actually slipped down to her waist, a small alarm went off in her mind. And when that hand jerked her shirt out of her skirt and slipped inside to stroke her back, she froze, prepared to break away from him. The hand that was still on her face became entangled in her hair, grasping a fistful of the dark locks, giving a sharp, warning tug, letting her know as clearly as any words he could have spoken that she was not to move. In no way should she attempt to pull away from her master.

Her protest to his caresses died before they had even begun. She held perfectly still, allowing his hands to continue their exploration. His hand slipped from her back to her front, grasping her breast through her bra, his thumb circling her nipple as she moaned and leaned against him for support, her own legs seeming nearly too weak to support her weight.

He pulled away from her, looked down at her flushed face, eyes seeming to smolder as they held hers.

"I think you should go now," he said softly.

"Alright," she said, her voice quivering.

She turned and began to climb the stairs to her rooms, straightening her clothes as she went. She halted when he called out to her.

"Oh, and Bella," he said.

She turned to find him looking up at her, a sardonic smile playing around his mouth.

"From now on, no underclothes. No bra, no panties. I want you completely nude beneath your clothes at all times. You understand?"

She gulped.

_NO!_ her mind protested.

But she had made the mistake of meeting his eyes, becoming trapped by their amber and green depths.

"Yes, sir," she heard herself whisper before she turned to continue the climb to her room.

**Thanks for taking the time to read my story. **


	4. Bella's First Lesson

**Please remember previous warnings. **

The events of the night before seemed almost to have been a dream. Did he really tell her not to wear her underthings, and had she actually agreed to this? And had he really kissed her?

She knew he had. She remembered it vividly, had been haunted by memories of it throughout the night. She thought of it now and was consumed by raw desire. Quickly, she dressed, wearing a flowing floral skirt and a simple top- no bra, no panties- and rushed down the stairs to meet him in the breakfast room.

When she reached the entryway, a sudden curiosity struck her. She had never once left the house since she had arrived. Had never tried to leave it. But nor was she ever given an opportunity to, either. Always, when she had come into the entryway, she was accompanied by Mr. Cullen or a member of the staff. Or if not, they were always near at hand and would invariably appear if she tarried near the door. Now as this sudden thought struck her, she impulsively went to the door and wrenched the handle. It was locked!

As she stood before the heavy door, her heart thudding with a sudden foreboding, she heard steps behind her. Victoria was coming from the direction of the kitchen, carrying some breakfast things. She stopped short when she saw Bella standing before the door.

"Mr. Cullen is waiting for you in the breakfast room," she told her sharply.

"Thank you," she said automatically, turning from the door and walking away slowly.

_But perhaps it means nothing_, she thought. _Perhaps it is just for safety. To keep out thieves._

And this idea truly did seem to be the most believable. So she pushed all other fears away and rushed to meet Mr. Cullen.

Perhaps she thought he would greet her with a kiss. In this she was mistaken. He behaved much as he ever had, greeting her with his usual "Good morning," and then returning his attention to the paper. But though he paid her no special attention, her awareness of him grew. Somehow, knowing that she was naked beneath her skirt, available for him at any time he should so choose, filled her with a greater awareness, not only of her own naked sex, but of him.

He did not choose to pay her this attention until late in the afternoon. As had become his usual habit, he buzzed her desk and asked her to attend him in his office. As requested, she came to stand beside him. He did not speak. Did not even acknowledge that she had entered the room. She was becoming accustomed to this. She merely stood beside him, silently.

Almost absentmindedly, his hand reached towards her, coming to rest on her behind. A slight gasp escaped her lips. However, her surprise at his light touch through her skirt was nothing compared to the utter shock she felt when that hand actually reached down to the hem of her skirt, going under it, stroking the firm flesh of her thighs, before coming to rest on her naked buttock. His fingers moved lightly, softly on her flesh.

A swift glance over at him showed that he continued working, his eyes on the contract he was reading. She would have believed that he was utterly unaware of her presence, stroking her naked flesh as one would a set of worry beads, if not for the words he spoke next.

"Spread your legs slightly, Bella, so I can touch all of you."

The hesitation was brief, just a moment's struggle with her former scruples, and then she did as he had commanded. She shifted her weight, allowing one leg to move slightly, opening them to allow her master to explore her as he wished.

His fingers stroked the cleft of her ass, sending a thrill of dread and anticipation through her.

_Surely, he would not!_ her mind protested.

Thankfully, he did not. His hand wandered lower, across her mound and into the curly hair above her slit, before grasping all of her sex at once and squeezing it firmly. Bella's breath came out all at once in a low moan.

"Does that feel good?" Edward asked.

He had abandoned his papers and was now giving her his full attention. Knowing that he was watching her increased her discomfort, making her want to hide her face. She didn't want to admit how much she enjoyed his touch. But he was waiting for an answer, watching her. She merely nodded her head, unable to say the words.

His eyes gleamed again and a smile touched his face. His fingers skimmed over her lower lips, touching softly, playfully. She knew at any moment he would touch that place on her that was most sensitive, and the anticipation of that touch made her tremble. Finally he did, deftly searching out and finding it, stroking. Her eyes closed, her breath became heavy. The trembling of her legs grew until she feared that she would fall.

Again, Edward asked, "Does that feel good?"

Again, Bella merely nodded in answer. But this time, he would not be satisfied with this response.

"Do you like it?" he persisted. "I want you to say it. Out loud. Tell me that you like it!" he demanded.

"Yes, Edward. I do like it," she moaned.

"What do you like, Bella? Say it!"

"I like your hands on me," she moaned in an ecstasy of pleasure and shame. "I love the way it feels."

Immediately, his touch was removed. Bella made a small, frustrated sound.

"Turn around," he ordered. "Kneel here at my feet."

She did as she was instructed, though the position she now found herself in caused her heart to flame with humiliation.

_I'm kneeling at his feet like a puppy!_

And just like a puppy, she looked into the face of her master with a mixture of adoration and anticipation, waiting for a further order.

He reached out and took her hands, laying them on the bulge in his pants. She felt the heat and the hardness of the flesh there. Her eyes widened, met his in a silent plea. His eyes looked back impassively, unmoved by whatever silent words were in her own guileless, brown eyes.

"Have you ever seen a man's cock?" he asked.

"No," she whispered.

Her answer did not seem to surprise him.

"Well, then," he said, "it's about time you did. After all, you will be attending to this one here," he said, squeezing her hands over his own cock. "You will be attending to it, one way or the other, everyday."

His words, if anything, sent a further thrill of fear through her. She shook her head very slightly, trying to refuse this outrage, but unable to find the words to truly protest.

"Yes, Bella, you will. And refusal to satisfy me will only result in your punishment."

_Punishment?_

Her throat tightened and a tremor ran over her. Would he really punish her, spank her like a naughty child? Her eyes dropped to his hands, this time seeing them not only as instruments of pleasure, but also of pain. But even as she thought of the pain those beautiful hands were capable of inflicting, she burned anew with desire. Her eyes turned to her own hands and the part of him that throbbed beneath them.

"Unbutton my pants, Bella," he said.

She did so, though the trembling of her hands made it difficult.

"Very good," he said. "Now unzip them and take out my cock."

She managed to pull down the zipper, then reached into the folds of his pants and pulled him free. Fascination got the better of her. Her eyes studied this secret part of him, the little gleaming hairs at the bottom, the thick shaft, and the glistening red tip, all intrigued her- even as another part of herself (the part that always thought of itself as a proper lady) was repulsed.

"Lean forward, Bella, and put it in your mouth," Mr. Cullen ordered.

_Surely not!_

For an instant, she nearly leaped to her feet, the impulse to storm away nearly overtaking her. But then she looked up into his face. He was watching her. The fair skin of his face was already flushed with arousal, breath slightly panting through his parted lips. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he knew her rebellious thoughts, and a spasm of fear shot through her.

_Perhaps he does know what I am thinking?_ she thought, before pushing this foolish thought away.

"Your face is very easy to read," he told her. "Do not attempt to escape me. I will only bring you back, and then you truly will be punished. And severely."

He let these words sink in before continuing.

"Put it in your mouth, Bella, and suck it. You need to learn to please me this way."

Finally, she did as she had been commanded, leaning over his lap and taking the head of his penis into her mouth. Her hair fell down in a dark curtain, nearly hiding her face from view. Mr. Cullen brushed the hair back, grabbing a fistful.

"That's it, Bella. Suck on it," he said, using his grasp on her hair to guide her up and down along his shaft. "Use your tongue, too. Swirl it around as you come up. Aahhhh...," he groaned.

Bella's eyes flickered back to his face. His eyes were nearly closed, the delicate skin of his cheeks was deeply flushed, his mouth a deeper red as his pleasure nearly reached its peak. Her traitorous body answered his arousal with her own.

"That feels so good, Bella," he moaned, his hips beginning to thrust up and down, even as he moved her head further down, forcing more and more of himself into her mouth, until she nearly gagged.

"Keep sucking, Bella. Keep sucking. I'm going to cum in your mouth," he groaned. "Swallow it all," he said, the grasp on her hair growing tighter, painful, as he began to buck even harder into her mouth, slamming into the back of her throat.

For a sickening moment, she thought she truly would throw up, but managed to gain command of herself just as his cock began to twitch and spurt into her mouth. Remembering his warning, Bella swallowed convulsively, trying to let not a single drop spill, face twisting only slightly at its taste.

When he was done, he pushed her back onto her heels and studied her flushed face.

**Thanks for reading the story. I hope you've enjoyed it.  
**


	5. Bella's Punishment

**Alright, everybody. Get ready. The fun really starts now. If BDSM fantasies with dubious or non-consent bother you, you probably shouldn't read** **any further. **

Unexpectedly, he leaned forward to place a soft kiss upon her mouth. The gentleness of the kiss undid her completely, caused her heart to flutter in her chest, like a bird seeking to escape its cage. She leaned forward, lips parted, hoping to recapture his mouth, but he gave a single shake of his head.

"I need to speak with you," he said. "I want to make sure that you do understand that there are rules which you will be expected to obey. First and foremost being your availability to me at all times. If at any time I should wish to have you, or to make use of you in anyway, you must comply."

She said nothing. His words did not surprise her in the slightest, prepared as she had been by the events leading up to them.

"Other than this _addition_," he smiled as if the term amused him, "to your regular duties, you will continue in your employment as my personal assistant. Also, you will continue to join me for meals." He paused, watching her with an unexpectedly wary eye. "I _do_ enjoy your company, after all. You're an intelligent girl and have a certain sweet charm." He stopped speaking. Moments passed. "Do you have anything you'd like to say? Any questions?"

There were many things she'd like to say. Certainly, she knew there were things she _should_ say under the circumstances, but the words she spoke were contrary to all of these.

"Can I touch you?" she asked in a voice shaky with fear, but also with desire.

He laughed.

"You just _have_ touched me," he said, voice teasing.

Bella's face flushed scarlet. Her eyes looked down, embarrassed.

"I want to touch your face," she admitted, in a tone that would suggest her confession to a murder.

A silence ensued again. When she could take the suspense no longer, she looked up into his face. He was watching her with a look that was difficult to interpret.

"Yes," he replied in a careful tone. "You can touch me."

Bella moved up until she was sitting on her knees, reaching out to touch him with trembling fingers. Her fingertips traced the line of his mouth, smoothing over each soft lip before moving to his still flushed face, stroking each cheek, and then finally losing themselves in his auburn hair.

"Enough!"

He pulled away from her. Her face was stunned, as though he had slapped her. Her hands still tingled where she'd touched him.

"I'm sorry?" she said, not knowing exactly what she was apologizing for.

He said nothing for a moment, but then said, "You can go to your rooms now."

She rose to her feet, a little unsteady after kneeling for so long. When she reached the door, she was surprised to find that he had followed her. He pulled her to him roughly and kissed her hard on the mouth, putting one hand beneath her skirt and touching her there as well.

When he let her go, he had one last thing to tell her. "Remember, Bella. You can not leave me. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head, eyes round with fear at his words, and yet still panting from his kiss and caress.

As usual, even in the solitude of her room, she couldn't get away from Edward Cullen. Her body still burned with desire, inflamed all the more by his kiss and touch before she'd left him. She walked around her little apartment, tidying things. Trying to think nothing more about him. Finally, running out of things to do, she lay on her bed. Once more, she thought of him- his kiss, his touch. Almost without awareness, her own hand moved to her body, moving up beneath her skirt to touch herself as he had done that afternoon. And as she touched herself, she thought of him, crying out his name as she came.

The following morning began as all the others had. Bella sat with Edward in the breakfast room, discussing the schedule for the day. Victoria moved around them, silently serving breakfast. By this time, Bella had given up offering any form of thanks to the woman. Even so, she lifted her eyes out of habit, very nearly saying 'thank you' before stopping herself.

Victoria's eyes were directed to Bella's chest, and she suddenly realized that the housekeeper was probably able to detect that she was not wearing a bra. For some reason, her own gaze dropped down, looking at Victoria's chest. She was shocked. Through the housekeeper's dark uniform, she could clearly see the form of her breasts. Without a doubt, the other woman was not wearing her bra.

_And what about her panties?_ she wondered.

She felt her face drain of color and a hollow sickness seize her stomach. Useless tears smarted in her eyes.

She looked up into the other woman's face, catching her eye. She could tell by the smugness of her smile that Victoria knew what she was thinking.

"Excuse me, Mr. Cullen. I need to go to the bathroom," she managed to choke out. She raced from the room before he could stop her.

She kept walking, racing to the kitchen and out the door. The bright morning sun greeted her, seeming to mock her pain.

_How can he do this? _

_Does he love her?_

She couldn't bear to think of this. A horrible sob tore from her, seeming to tear a hole in her chest as it came out.

She had to leave! This was not a pain that she could abide.

Bella looked around the back garden, noting again the walls on every side. However, walls can be climbed, can't they? She spied a tree growing very near one part of the wall. If she could just get into the first limb of that tree, she could follow it to the other side. She could make a quick escape from here.

Near the garden shed was a container with a heavy lid. If she dragged that container over to the tree and stood on it, she should be able to grasp that branch. Quickly, she put her plan into place, grunting as she heaved. She climbed on top of the container and stood on her toes, just able to touch the limb. But then she hesitated.

_Did she really want to leave?_

She thought about her employer. His face came quickly to her mind, as did his smile, and the sound of his voice. If she left, how much pain would that cause her? Could she bear to be separated from him? She didn't think so. Just thinking about it caused the fissure in her chest to open again, sending waves of pain through her. With sickening dread she realized the truth. Leaving him would cause her actual physical pain. She simply couldn't leave him.

"What do you think you're doing?" a cold voice asked, causing her to nearly fall down with the force of her surprise.

"Oh, my gosh! Emmett! I didn't hear you walk up!" Bella said, quickly stepping down from the container.

"What were you doing?" he repeated. His blue eyes took in her appearance.

"Oh! There was a cat in the tree," she lied. "I-I was t-trying to get it out."

He looked up in the tree.

"There's no cat in there now."

"No. It left. Just a second ago. It took off." She felt herself begin to sweat, fidgeting under the groundskeeper's stern look. He had seemed so good-natured before. Now, he was positively frightening.

"I believe you should go in, now," he said. "I'll put this away for you."

"Thank you," she said, hurrying away.

She prayed that Emmett would say nothing about this to Mr. Cullen, trusting in the man's basic goodness, and perhaps his gullibility. When the end of the day came without a single mention of it, she breathed a sigh of relief.

After dinner however, when they had retired to the drawing room, she was surprised to find both Emmett and Victoria waiting.

"Bella, Emmett came to me today with a most unusual story," Edward began, his face suddenly very cold. "Do you know what he told me?"

Bella's legs began to shake. Her lips trembled.

"It's not true," she whispered.

His eyebrows shot up.

"It's not true?" he repeated. "What isn't true?"

Her eyes searched his face, but saw nothing but anger there.

"I didn't try to leave." He looked unmoved by her words. She looked over at Emmett and then back at Edward. Her eyes filled with tears. "I came back."

"Came back, or was forced back?"

She said nothing. Nothing she said would help. She was going to be punished.

Edward walked over to a chair and sat down.

"Come here, Bella."

Very slowly, she walked towards him. When she stood directly in front of him, he said, "Do you remember what I told you yesterday? About what would happen if you tried to leave?"

Her entire body began to tremble.

"Y-yes, sir," she admitted. Her gazed flickered over to Emmett and Victoria. "B-but..."

A smile touched his face. "Embarrassed that your punishment will be watched?" he guessed. The smile was short-lived. "You can either lay down across my lap willingly, or you can be made to. If you are dragged kicking and screaming, you will regret it."

His face left no doubt of the sincerity of his words.

She did as he ordered.

She lay across his lap, feeling the foolishness of her position all the more sharply because of the watchful, silent servants. Her butt was presented not only to his eyes, but to theirs. Her sole comfort was that she remained covered. A shred of dignity, at least, that she could hide in.

Then he lifted her skirt, tucking the hem around her waist, into the band, so that, no matter how much she moved or twisted, the skirt would remain lifted, her ass presented to both him and the watchers.

"Please," she moaned. "Please don't do this. Cover me back up," she pleaded.

But he only made a small sound, something like a dark chuckle, and ran his fingers across the snowy globes of her butt. A shiver went through her at his light touch.

"Bella, your modesty is very attractive, but wasted." He continued to touch her lightly as he spoke. "As willful as you are, Victoria and Emmett are certain to grow accustomed to the sight of you across my lap." He paused a moment, giving her time to absorb the meaning of his words. "And whether you are clothed or not will always be at my command, depending on my pleasure. Certainly, you will always be exposed during your punishments."

Again, a shiver went through her, but this time one of deepest dread.

"I always want to please you," she whispered.

His hand slipped under her chin, tilting her head slightly to the side so that he could look into her face. His eyes, always so strange and beautiful to her, looked deeply into hers, an indecipherable expression in them.

"Yes," he returned softly. "Yes, you do, don't you?"

She nodded, miserable.

His expression became grim, his jaw tightened.

"And yet, you did not please me today. Today, you tried to leave me. Though I had informed you that you would be severely punished if you ever tried."

Tears formed in her dark brown eyes, glistening in them before slipping down her cheeks.

"I returned," she pleaded. "I don't want to leave you." These last words were said with just a trace of a sob, not so much in dread of the punishment she was about to receive, but in sorrow at the truthfulness of her words.

He released her chin, allowing her head to bow down again.

"Victoria, please bring me the ties," he said.

Bella heard Victoria moving about the room, her steps quick. In a moment, she stood beside Edward, handing him the things he had requested. She remained beside him.

"Thank you, Victoria," Edward said with a trace of sharpness. "You may return to your position beside Emmett."

As she walked away, Edward bent down to speak into Bella's ear.

"Bella, my love. I'm going to bind your hands now. I'm afraid that once the spanking begins, you may be tempted to place your hands in the way, to protect your bottom. And you will only hurt yourself more if you do that. Your hands are very fragile. I would not like to injure them."

He quickly bound her hands behind her back, the cords tight. And now she felt her most vulnerable- exposed and defenseless.

_Nothing can be worse than this,_ she thought.

Then the spanking began. At first, his hand delivered only light slaps that merely warmed her flesh, and she began to think that perhaps she had been wrong in dreading this so much. But then the tempo and intensity of the spanking increased, until each blow landed with a resounding **_smack!_** that forced a low moan of pain from her. She tried to remain still, to bear the spanking with whatever dignity she had left, but soon even this was lost to her. She began to anticipate the next blow, to twist and turn in an effort to avoid his relentless hand. All in vain. He continued to rain down blows on her backside, turning the white flesh red with the fire he ignited there. Just when she thought that all was lost, that she would actually be forced to cry out, to sob like a child before Edward and the servants, the spanking ended. His hand rested on her, stroking the inflamed flesh. This felt good and Bella's muscles began to untense, to relax into the enjoyment of his attentions.

It was with disbelief that she heard his next words.

"Victoria, please bring the paddle," he said.

"No!" Bella cried, twisting around to look him in the face, to plead with him. "Please, Edward! Please! I can't take anymore!"

He seemed amused by her words, a smile in his voice as he replied, "But the punishment has only just begun."

Victoria again approached, handing him the paddle. This time she quickly left his side, returning to stand silently beside Emmett.

He wasted no more time, instead applying the paddle to her exposed backside until all thoughts of dignity were erased from her thoughts. She sobbed openly and deeply, crying out his name over and over again, "Edward, Edward, Edward!" as the blows descended. Words soon dissolved into simple tears. Just as she had come to accept the blows, to let them fall with no more effort to escape them, they ended.

Again, his hand touched her, lightly tracing the red marks left by his punishment. The tender touches continued until her sobs had died out and her breathing had returned to normal.

"Victoria. Emmett. Come closer."

Bella could see them approach. They stopped, standing on either side of Edward.

"Remove her from my lap and place her at my feet."

She felt herself lifted up and placed once again on the floor, but she did not look up to see who had moved her. Her head remained bowed. She heard Edward move, heard the sound of his clothes being adjusted, the sound of his pants being opened.

Her eyes flickered upward, caught his. They glowed, green and deep and full of passion.

"Kneel forward, Bella," he said, roughly. "I want to use your mouth."

The smallest of protests escaped her lips, her eyes moving briefly to the watching servants. Victoria, she saw, was riveted by the sight of her still exposed bottom, seeming more amused than aroused by the evidence of her master's many blows. Emmett, however, watched her face. She saw, with a small thrill of fright, that he was aroused by the sight of her so exposed. The evidence of his arousal was very obvious through his pants.

As she thus hesitated in front of him, warring yet again with her modesty, Edward leaned forward and spoke to her softly, saying, "I know that this is what you want." The voice was like velvet, soft and smooth, but also warm. She looked once more into his handsome face, then down to where he had exposed himself, and felt the stirrings of desire again. She writhed inside, wretched in her despair, hating herself for the truthfulness of his words. No matter the punishment she had just received at his hands. No matter the humiliation of being exposed and demeaned in front of the others, she did still want him. Perhaps even because of these things.

She raised herself onto her knees, struggling to keep her balance without the use of her hands, and took him into her mouth, giving a barely perceptible moan at the first taste of him. Edward leaned back, pulling her hair to one side so he could watch as she licked and sucked him. Her tongue and mouth moved with a passion and intensity that she had never shown before, her awareness of the servants and the shame of having them watch while she was debased completely gone. She wanted only to make him cum.

"That feels so good," he moaned. "Keep going, Bella. Let the others see how good you are at this. Let them see how much you love to suck my cock."

His cock swelled more as he said the words, leaking drops of pre-cum. She pulled him out of her mouth, lapping at the drops, swirling her tongue around the tip, bringing a deeper moan from him. Edward's hands came up to rest on the back of her head, pressing her head ever downward. Sensing what he wanted, she pushed herself further down, taking more of him into her mouth, trying to take the full length, fighting the slight urge to gag. She looked up and found his eyes on her, watching with burning eyes, as he disappeared into her mouth.

"You're doing very good, Bella," he told her. "Your mouth was made for sucking my cock. So warm and wet." His hips began to move, thrusting the length in and out of her mouth. At the same time, the grip on her hair became tighter, pulling her forward and nearly making her topple over, perched as she was on only her knees. She struggled to maintain her balance, fearing that she really would fall over. Just then, he began to cum, his grip on her becoming vice-like.

**Alright, so to answer a few questions. Why was Bella punished in front of the servants? First of all, because I think it's sexy as hell. Having them watch makes it more humiliating and more arousing at the same time. And that is exactly what's going on with Bella, too. The punishment excited her. Which is the other reason for it playing out like that. Edward's main goal is to break down her modesty and inhibitions. To tear down her facade of frigidity. His other goal, obviously, is to have her submit unconditionally to him, no matter the demand.**

**Thank you to everyone who is reading the story.**


	6. Bella's Reward

**WARNING: THIS IS A DARK ****_FANTASY_****. IT IS NOT ABOUT THE BDSM COMMUNITY OR HOW TO PRACTICE SAFE, SANE AND CONSENSUAL BDSM (WHICH YOU SHOULD). IT'S SMUT, NOT INFORMATION. **

Bella struggled to swallow, pressing her lips tighter against him so that nothing could escape her mouth. When finally he was done, he released his hold on her, allowing her to sit back on her heels for just a moment. She pressed her head against his knee, looking down at the floor. All too soon, before she'd even fully caught her breath, he stood, pulling her up with him. He walked behind her and quickly released her hands, then returned to stand before her, eyes still burning with a kind of dark passion.

"Bella, you must accept that you no longer belong to yourself. You belong to me, now. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

Edward's eyes narrowed.

"Do not nod your head," he said sharply. "You must answer me! Do you accept that you belong to me, now?"

"Yes," she said softly. "I _do_ accept that."

He seemed pleased with her words. His gorgeous mouth curved into a smile as his hands came up to cup her face, softly stroking the apples of her cheeks.

"You really have done very well," he mused. "I believe you've earned a reward."

_Reward?_

He led her to a low divan and had her sit down with her bottom near the end. Then he made her lie back, with her feet still on the floor. Bella was very aware that, should she open her legs in this position, she would be completely exposed, not just to Edward but to everyone. Her faced flamed with shame at this, her heart hammering in her chest, wondering what he was going to do next. Deep inside, she worried that he planned to truly take her now, to have her virginity, and she didn't know if she truly feared this or if she really wanted it.

He knelt down on the floor at the foot of the divan, grasping her knees and spreading them, so that his face was directly in front of her pussy.

_Oh, surely not! _her mind protested.

Without considering the possible results of her actions, she swiftly sat up, pulling her legs tightly together.

"No," Edward said, firmly, pressing her back down and pulling her legs apart again. "You will not resist me. You _must not_ resist me, even in this. If I wish to give you pleasure, it is mine to give you, just as your pain is mine to give."

He looked at Victoria and Emmett, who had followed them to the divan, and instructed them to kneel on either side of Bella.

"Hold her arms and legs for me. Make sure she cannot close her legs."

Strong hands grasped her arms and legs, pulling her knees up and her thighs open, so that her entire pussy was available to Edward. This was horribly embarrassing, especially as the other two seemed just as fascinated by her body as Edward did, both of them peering down between her legs to admire the small patch of brown curls, the perfect lips, vermillion slit and folds in which the tiny nub of her clit was hidden. She closed her eyes to block them from her mind, but Edward immediately ordered her to open them again and to keep her gaze on him and him alone.

He kissed the insides of her thighs, trailing soft kisses on either side. These kisses went back and forth, always ending as they reached the tops of her thighs, always when she anticipated that finally his mouth would take possession of her, the kisses would trail away, moving to the other thigh. Occasionally, he would pause to blow lightly on her overheated sex, teasing her almost painfully. The sight of him between her legs affected her more than she would like to admit. Finally, she had to bite her lips to stop herself from moaning out loud.

He gazed deeply into her eyes as he leaned forward and planted one soft kiss on her slit before pulling back to kiss her legs again. She thrashed softly, trying to bring herself back into contact with his mouth. He smiled at her.

"You're already very wet, you know," he told her. His fingers moved forward to gently stroke her small, wet opening. "I know that you want this. That you want me. Tell me so, and I will give you what you want."

"I-I do want you," she said in a voice that quivered with desire.

His green eyes darkened slightly.

"No, my love. Tell me exactly what it is that you want me to do to you. Tell me that you want me to make you cum. That you want my mouth on you. You want me to kiss your beautiful little pussy, don't you?"

"Yes, yes I do," she groaned. "I want you to kiss me everywhere. Please. Please..."

"Please what?" he teased again, once more placing a soft kiss on her warm, wet pussy, snaking the tip of his tongue out to lick her quickly before pulling back to kiss her thighs.

She could feel herself getting wetter.

"Oh, God! Edward, please make me cum. Please kiss me, lick me!"

His face darkened. "I like the way you sound when you are begging for me. I might make you do that more often. It's very sexy."

Finally, he pressed his mouth against her pussy, licking the folds, gently at first, but then more firmly as the intensity of her pleasure increased. His tongue sought out her swollen clit, drawing ovals on it with his tongue, pressing it, teasing it, side to side, even as his head moved gently, round and round.

Bella's breathing became heavier. She felt a great tension begin to grow in her lower stomach. A tension that seemed to zing and buzz through her clit, ever stronger with each motion of his tongue and lips. Her hips began to move softly, rocking back and forth, as the tension mounted, growing more urgent. Her eyes closed.

"No, Bella," Edward chided her, lifting his head. "Keep your eyes on me. I want you to watch me while I make you cum."

Her eyes snapped back open, focusing on his lovely face between her legs, the sight of which was nearly enough to send her over the edge.

"On my god," she moaned, as his tongue stroked her again. He used the flat, rough edge of his tongue, lapping her entire clit, swirling it around beneath his tongue.

Finally, she could not hold back anymore. Her orgasm ripped through her like fire, exploding from her lower stomach and her clit, and then sparking like a wave of electricity across her entire body.

"Oh, Edward! Yes, please, please, please!" she screamed, thrashing and shaking against the hands that held her captive. When the last wave of her orgasm had washed over her, she lay still, exhausted, panting, trying to catch her breath.

He gave one last small kiss to her pussy and then sat up, looking up at her with a bit of a smirk.

"Release her," he told the servants.

As soon as she felt herself released from their tight grip, she sat up, face to face with Edward. Suddenly, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, nuzzling his face with hers, running her fingers through his hair, relishing its softness. She felt him stiffen. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her away. Of everything that had happened to her that night, this was what hurt her the most. The tears that filled her eyes were caused, not by mere physical pain, but by true mental anguish.

His face seemed to reflect some struggle. "Bella," he breathed. He paused. He stood up and paced away from her. When he spoke again, it was with his usual cool, controlled voice.

"That you are a passionate person does not surprise me. I sensed it from the start. But the depth of that passion, I admit, does surprise me. And your desire to submit, to place yourself completely under the power of another, the intensity of that desire also surprises me." He seemed to study her face, his eyes detached, lost in thought. He mused, almost to himself, "But perhaps you only wish to submit to-" He broke off abruptly and again paced away from her.

"Bella, please get up, straighten your clothes and return to your rooms." His voice was cold again.

"What?" Emmett said. These were the first words he had spoken that evening. He threw his employer a surprised look.

"I think you heard me correctly, Emmett," he sneered. "Bella, get up. Get out of here. Now."

She rose on slightly unsteady feet, hurriedly straightening her clothes, glad to finally be permitted to cover back up. Without another glance, she raced out of the room, hurrying to her small apartment. Never had it seemed like more of a sanctuary than it did now.

She went into her little bathroom and quickly bathed herself, hissing when the hot water stung her sore bottom. The pain brought back the memories of the evening.

_Edward,_ she thought. She imagined his face, his eyes as he had said those strange words to her. _A desire to submit?_ Never. Perhaps she did submit to him, she gave in to his outrageous demands, but only because-

_Oh, my God!_ her mind screamed at her. _No! It cannot be!_

Unbidden, a bloom of love took sudden, full flower. Opening inside her chest like the petals of a rose, opening for the sun. She felt that she must glow with this secret love for him. That somehow it would escape through her pores, to paint itself across her skin. That this love had been there for some time was obvious. She felt, in some ways, that she must have known it all along. But never had she acknowledged it. Now that it was acknowledged, a true fear began to grip her. All along, she had not been truly afraid of her employer, or even the other two-Victoria and Emmett. Always, in the back of her mind, was the thought that she could truly leave at any time, despite what Mr. Cullen said. She was, after all, just as he had stated, a very clever girl. She could always find a way to leave.

But not anymore.

The ties that bound her now were tighter than any they could have forced on her.

**Thank you for taking time to read my story. I hope you've been enjoying it.**


	7. The Plan

_This is getting complicated, _Edward thought, as he watched Bella race from the room, straightening her clothes and hiding her face.

She was a lovely girl, he could admit that. But there had been many lovely girls over the years. What made her so special? He'd asked himself this many times over the past few days, but the answer never came to him. Perhaps it was something to do with her eyes. So large and trusting. And in their depths, he thought he caught a glimpse of something else. Something difficult for him to understand or accept.

Thinking of her eyes brought memories of how she'd looked when he'd pushed her away. The pain and bewilderment in her eyes. Would he ever forget that look? The accusation they seemed to hurl at him was like a finger of shame pointed straight at his heart.

And yet, he could not dwell upon these things if he was to do what he knew he must do. He couldn't think about the pain _or_ the affection he was inspiring in her. No matter how much he might wish otherwise, he could not encourage the love for him which he could see swimming in the depths of her eyes. After all, she was not his. She never would be.

The bitterness of that thought twisted his mouth for just a moment. No, she belonged to another. Someone who was in no way worthy of the slightest notice from her. Who should not be permitted to kiss so much as the sole of her shoe. And he was powerless to change anything. Powerless to warn her. And completely unable to possess her as his own.

This isn't the way it should be. He knew that in the normal scheme of things, he would stop at nothing to possess her, and damn any man to hell who stood in his way. But things were not normal. They were as far from normal as it was possible to be.

It had all started a little more than a year ago. Had it really been such a short time ago? At the time, he'd had another lovely girl installed in the apartment at the top of the stairs.

_Lauren._

Just thinking her name brought a surge of rage that threatened to overwhelm him. Lauren was a wealthy girl, from one of the area's best families. And she'd had a nearly unequaled sexual thirst. This was what had first attracted him to her. They had met at a local gala. She had approached him, dressed immaculately in her expensive gown, each hair in perfect place. She extended a cold, white hand to him. Her smile was polite, her conversation irreproachable. And yet he knew that beneath her cold exterior burned a fire. No, he was not a mind reader, but he _was_ extremely perceptive. He could easily read other people.

When their affair began, he had informed her of his own sexual interests. He confessed they were offbeat, perhaps even depraved by some standards. Instead of being put off, she proved to be an enthusiastic participant. For her, it was just a new thrill. Something to liven up her otherwise boring life. A welcome change from the garden parties.

_She was so responsive,_ he mused, remembering her moans, as she lay gagged and bound on his bed as he stroked her, how hard she had cum as he fucked her from behind after whipping her with a riding crop. She had loved it all.

But, like all the other girls who had come before, she soon lost her hold on him. His interest waned. It was inevitable. She had been forewarned, as had all the other girls. They knew that this would likely happen. He did not seek a permanent arrangement with them. Usually, these women went on to find permanent masters. Or they took on slaves of their own. Many of them drifted into more conventional relationships, leaving memories of their time in his home wrapped up and stored away in some closet in their mind, a dirty secret put away. In any case, they all left the house and carried on their own lives, never to be heard from again.

Except for Victoria, of course. Victoria was special. Her devotion to him was unequaled and it never wavered, no matter how many other girls came to take her place. How many others were installed in the apartment at the top of the stairs. She continued on in the capacity of housekeeper, and occasional lover, just as she had begged to be allowed to do. He'd allowed it, though against his better judgment at first. She'd proved to be an excellent housekeeper, however. More than that, she was extremely helpful in the training of new girls. Victoria enjoyed inflicting pain and humiliation just as much as she liked to receive it. Maybe more so.

But Lauren had proved to be more difficult than he ever would have imagined. He had explained, as gently as he could, that he no longer wished to carry on as her lover. That the time had come for them to part. She had reacted with hostility, flying into a rage, hurling abuse at him, before finally storming out of the house. Before she left, she had sworn to have revenge on him. And revenge is exactly what she'd had.

At first, he thought the end of his trouble had come when she'd left. But that was before he'd had an unexpected visit from Mike Newton.

Mr. Newton came to his home one afternoon, about a month after Lauren had left. His visit was unexpected and very unwelcome. As a matter of fact, as he had informed Mr. Newton as he walked into his office and sat uninvited into a chair, he did not have the time to spare for him. He was in the middle of a very important negotiation.

These words seemed to amuse Mr. Newton. He gave a very tight smile and then announced, "I believe you'll find the negotiations we're about to engage in to be much more important than anything you're doing right now."

Edward looked the other man up and down, truly taking in his appearance for the first time. He did not like the impression he made. If people were books that he could easily read, then Mr. Newton was a work of the worst fiction.

"What exactly is it that you want?" he asked.

Mike then made the situation very clear. Lauren and her father (her very rich, very powerful father) had approached him with a problem. According to Lauren, Mr. Cullen had lured her to his grey house under false pretenses, had held her prisoner in the apartment at the top of the stairs, and had forced her to engage in the worst sexual depravities. She told of whippings, bondage, sexual servitude, not just to Mr. Cullen, but to the housekeeper and groundskeeper, as well. She had managed to escape, and now wished for Mr. Cullen to pay for his crimes. To this end, she and her father had engaged him to assist in the gathering of evidence against him. Evidence of sexual torture and imprisonment.

"I hired a private investigator on their behalf. This investigator, in turn, has located and contacted a number of women who have been _convinced_ to testify against you. They have detailed your sexual depravity- the bondage, paddling, and debauchery. Coupled with Lauren's own testimony, it makes for a powerful accusation. An accusation strengthened by the evidence gathered from your own property."

He gave a kind of broad, greasy smile.

"Acting on my client's behalf, this investigator has contacted your residence and has arranged for an annual 'home inspection,' supposedly as required by your home insurance policy. During the course of this inspection, several photographs were taken which clearly show the instruments of torture and the dungeon in which the torture was carried out."

"There is no dungeon," Edward had informed him curtly. "What you are referring to is in fact more accurately described as a play room. I assure you, all of those women, including the lovely Lauren, enjoyed every moment of their 'torment' in that room."

"That may be," replied Mike. "But that's not what they're going to say in court. And then there is the matter of the drugs you pump through this house."

"I do not pump drugs into this house!" Edward snarled.

"Sure, you don't," Mike agreed. "But the pictures we have of your heating and cooling system very clearly show the opposite."

"The only thing that goes through these vents is an infusion of native flowers. Their scent does have a calming effect. But it is very light. It merely allows a relaxation. In the right person, it might encourage a subtle release of inhibitions."

"Of course," Mike agreed again. "But our lab tests conducted on the substance our investigator removed from your home show something much different. In fact, it shows it to be a dangerous narcotic."

A wave of cold anger washed over Edward.

"It seems that you are holding all the cards," he said in tones of tightly controlled anger. "Obviously, there is something you want. You would not show me your hand otherwise. So let me ask you again, what exactly is it that you want?"

And that is when he was introduced to Bella.

Bella was Mike's fiance. A beautiful, virginal, very proper young lady. Seemingly perfect. But according to Mike Newton, she was far from perfect.

"I have a problem with my Bella," he began. "I do love her, of course," he waved his hand dismissively. "But she is lacking in a number of ways. One great deficiency is her utter lack of deference to me. You know, as well as any man, that a man should be the unchallenged leader in his home. His natural superiority grants him this power over his partner. But with Bella, there is a rebelliousness that is unbecoming, indeed unacceptable, in my wife. This is something that must be stamped out. She must learn her proper place, embrace it and submit to me as any good wife would."

Edward's disgust for the man increased. He was a pig. However, he said nothing, waiting for the man to continue his proposal.

"This rebelliousness is not her greatest fault. Her greatest fault is something which, in most of society, would be considered a virtue, but for which I have no use. In short, it is her immoderate modesty and chastity. Together, these virtues have become a prison for me. I am restricted from any type of pleasure which her body could provide. Even when we kiss, she holds back, unwilling to let our kiss grow into anything more passionate than a small peck. This would not be such a curse, if I could quickly place a ring upon her finger, if I could totally possess her. But even in this she thwarts me. She procrastinates and pushes off the date of our wedding. Once this wedding is accomplished and she is installed in my own home, I assure you, her behavior will not be tolerated. She **will **submit to me. But until such a time, I have been left out in the cold, as it were, and every day I grow less patient."

"What exactly do you wish me to do about these...problems?"

Mike met his eyes frankly, no trace of smile discernible anymore. "I believe you would be the right man to train my Bella to be a perfect wife," he stated. "Someone of your experience and expertise could easily tame her, teach her how to submit, and how to please her man in every way."

"An interesting proposition," Edward stated coldly, "But why not simply force her into your own home? Tame her there, at your leisure?"

Mike laughed. "That would be rather difficult to explain to the staff, don't you think? And what would I do with her while I am away at work? I assure you, without constant supervision, Bella would escape me. If that happened, I would be destroyed, my career over. And Bella would be lost to me forever."

He shook his head. "No. You are much better equipped for this type of thing. Your staff could certainly keep her under control. Besides, your home lends itself very well to this. It would be a simple thing to arrange to make it inescapable."

Edward's face became colder, the grim lines of his mouth firmer.

"Mr. Newton, your offer is interesting, but I don't believe I will accept it. I would prefer to take my chances in court than participate in this. You see, contrary to what you and your clients are trying to prove, every woman who enters into my home and submits to me does so willingly."

Mike eyed Edward shrewdly, sizing him up.

"But what if she did enter it willingly?" he asked. "What if she did submit to you willingly?"

"What do you mean?"

"As to my second question," he said almost pleasantly, "it is simple. I believe Bella has the potential to be a wonderfully submissive woman, a proper wife for any man, if she would only give in to her natural impulses. In the right hands," again he waved his own. "I believe she would do well. She wants to submit, but fights against her own nature."

Edward shifted in his chair, his fingertips laced, and he appeared to consider this new piece of information. But then he shook his head.

"Still, I don't believe I will take that chance, " Edward stated. "I would rather take my chances with a court of law."

Mr. Newton's face took on harsh lines of cunning. He leaned slightly forward, head thrust out aggressively.

"You would, yes. But what about the others?" he asked. "What about Victoria, your vicious, loyal housekeeper? And what about Emmett, your groundskeeper? Yes. I know all about Emmett." The cunning look deepened as he watched Edward's reaction to his words. "How your family took him in after his own family died. How the two of you came to be like brothers. And when your own fortune was made and his foundered, you continued to help your less fortunate foster brother. Offering him the position of groundskeeper, basically continuing to support him, well after he had become an adult and should have been left to his own devices. I confess, I do not understand why you feel the need to be his keeper, yet the fact remains that you are. The two of you are close. So close, in fact, that he participates in the sexual depravity that goes on in this house. I wonder what he will do when the charges are brought against him? I wonder if he will choose to confess to his crimes?"

"There is nothing to confess to," Edward retorted angrily.

"So you say. But the evidence speaks for itself. Besides," he smiled. "I believe everyone has their weak spot. For instance, with Emmett, I believe his own personal weak spot to be a certain young lady by the name of Rosalie. Yes, you seem surprised that I know her name. I assure you, my private investigators are of the highest caliber. Very thorough. The information they provided me regarding this young lady and your friend leads me to believe that he would wish to protect her. I'm certain he would not wish to have her brought into court, or have the particulars of her relationship with you and him aired in public, her name dragged through the mud. Do you not agree? Under the circumstances, would he not choose to sacrifice himself, instead?"

No doubt he would, thought Edward. Rosalie had enchanted and bewitched Emmett from the moment she had entered into the home. Emmett, who did not share a passion for his lifestyle but did have a great passion for ladies, had always been willing to assist Edward in the training of the girls, as long as the said training involved sexual activity. But Rosalie was different. Certainly, she was beautiful, with her cascade of light blonde hair and her china blue eyes, her face, almost doll-like in its perfection. Yet despite these physical perfections, Edward's heart had been unmoved. He enjoyed her sexually, but that was all. On the other hand, Emmett had grown increasingly besotted by her, eventually becoming enraged whenever Edward touched her. A rather uncomfortable situation all around, as she had been installed in the house specifically for Edward's use.

And then one evening, the situation came to an end. She had simply vanished, leaving behind a note full of bitter accusation of his lack of love for her. Of course, he had never claimed to love her, but perhaps she had hoped to change his mind given enough time. Emmett had been devastated. His anger with Edward actually seemed to grow, though he could not understand why. Eventually, though, things resolved themselves and their relationship continued as it had always been.

And now, Mr. Newton brought the incident back to light, threatening to force Emmett to choose between himself (and Edward) or Rosalie.

But he would never force the choice upon him. Nor would he risk his foster brother's freedom, or Victoria's either.

"Tell me a little bit more about this plan," Edward said.

"So you are finally agreeing to my proposal?"

"I'm agreeing to hear it."

"Well, the plan is actually quite simple..."

And so the plan had been explained. An advertisement would be placed in the local paper, announcing that Mr. Cullen was seeking a personal assistant. Miss Swan, who was skilled in this area but currently unemployed, would contact him about the position.

"How do you plan to arrange for her to willingly apply for this position?" Edward inquired.

"Very simple," Mike replied. "I will simply forbid her from responding to the notice. Believe me, this will have the opposite effect. My fiance is a headstrong young lady, remember? In the course of her interview, you can inform her that she will be required to reside in your home. And in that way," he joked, "she will willingly come to live in your home."

"Neat plan," Edward quipped. "That still does not resolve the issue of her submission."

"No," Mike stated. "But I believe you can handle that on your own. After all, isn't that your expertise?"

"And if I agree? What then?"

"Then I speak with my clients and this whole thing disappears. At this time, they are unaware of the evidence I and my private investigator have uncovered. If things go well, they need never be informed. I will tell them we don't have a leg to stand on in court and that any thoughts of justice should be dismissed."

Edward sat in deep thought. A look of disgust mixed with resignation finally crossed his face.

"As I'm sure you are aware, I have little choice in the matter. Mr. Newton, I accept your proposal."

Mike smiled triumphantly.


	8. Bella's Sun

In the days to follow, Bella became increasingly despondent, as she realized that she truly was a prisoner in this grey house. A prisoner, because she was unwilling to tear herself away from Edward. Consumed by a love that was changing her, twisting her into a stranger. A stranger who would allow this man to completely control her, abuse and demean her if he wished, and still she would only love him more.

And what about her vows to Mike? Her promise to marry him?

_Perhaps,_ she thought, _when Edward is tired of me, he will send me away, let me go._

And when that day comes, she realized, she could as easily marry Mike as any other man. She knew it wouldn't matter. Her heart would always belong only to Edward, whether he wanted it or not.

And at this point, it appeared that he did not. Certainly, he had rebuffed her, pushed her away almost cruelly, at the very moment when her affection had threatened to overwhelm her.

_Because he doesn't want me._

It hurt. It was a torture, a constant torment.

Over the passing days, this knowledge had grown into an almost certain dread that Edward was already growing tired of her. That he would soon send her away.

Her first indication of this came the following morning. As usual, she came down to the breakfast room, prepared to find him already waiting. Instead, she found the room was empty. She sat down at the table, nibbling absently on a muffin, waiting for him to arrive. After a few moments, the housekeeper entered the room. Bella, in her confusion and embarrassment, looked away from the woman, grabbing her cup of juice and spilling it in the process. As she mopped the tablecloth with her napkin, Victoria poured her a cup of coffee and informed her that the master had gone away for a few days on business. He had left instructions for her in her office. Lists of duties he wished her to perform.

"Gone?" Bella repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, gone."

"But, he didn't mention anything about a business trip last night," she protested.

"Well, now. I believe he was a little too busy with other matters last night," Victoria replied in a coolly amused voice.

Bella's face flushed a deeper red. Her mouth closed and she said nothing as the other woman swept away.

So, for the following few days, Bella ate alone, worked alone, and spoke very little. With Edward gone, she felt as if her life had lost all its color. She walked through her duties like an automaton.

Then finally, he returned. One evening, she entered the dining room expecting it to be empty as always, and found Edward sitting at the table. She stopped short, catching her breath.

"Hello," she said as she settled into her chair.

"Hello," he returned brusquely.

This set the tone for the entire meal, and indeed, for every interaction they had from there on. Whereas before, he had drawn her out, asking endless questions about her life before she had entered his home, he now showed little curiosity, sitting through entire meals without speaking. Nor did he pay her any other attention. Not once did he attempt to kiss her or touch her in any way, nor did he ask for her to provide any sort of pleasure to him. Each afternoon, she waited in anticipation of his call, waiting to be buzzed into his office, hoping to receive some sort of attention from him. Instead, he remained silent. It was as though a curtain had been drawn between them. An iron curtain through which he refused to reach.

_He will be sending me away any moment_, she thought.

Certainly, she ought to be glad to return to her old life. Mike, who had written to her faithfully, continued to profess his love for her and his desire to marry as soon as possible. All of his letters had been delivered unopened, a detail which had surprised her. She had expected that all of her mail would be inspected.

She realized that she had not yet replied to one letter from him and this thought brought about a sense of deep shame. How could she be so inconstant in her affection? How could she so easily dismiss the man that she had once loved?

This shame brought about a resolution to write him as soon as possible. So thinking, she quickly scrawled out a letter to him, giving a sketchy picture of her life so far in the Cullen home. Indeed, it would be difficult to go into many details without exposing the true nature of her feelings towards her employer and the situation she now found herself trapped in. When it came time to sign the letter, she hesitated. She always signed her letters 'Your Bella' as a play on his own pet name for her. My Bella. That was what he always called her, in the tones of deepest pride and possession. Somehow, though, using this name seemed false to her, now. She hesitated, but in the end decided to sign it in the usual way. After all, it made little difference. In all probability, she _would _be his eventually.

Once the letter was complete and in the addressed envelope, she slipped it into her pocket, unsealed. Without a doubt, her letter would be inspected before it could be sent.

Therefore, at the end of the day, after another eight hours of being ignored by Mr. Cullen, she approached him in his office.

"I need a stamp, please," she announced, trying to sound indifferent.

Edward looked up in surprise.

"Why do you need a stamp?" he inquired. "To whom have you written?"

"My fiance," she confessed. "Mike Newton."

Her words seemed to surprise him. He stood up, walked around the desk and stood in front of her, peering sharply into her face. Before he could speak, she told him, "I already know that you will want to read the letter." She took it from her pocket and held it out to him. "Here it is."

He took the letter from her hands, opening and reading it. The entire process took much longer than the letter's brevity would seem to require. Just as she had begun to wonder what she could have possibly written that had enthralled him for so long, he finally spoke.

"This is a very simple letter," he stated, his eyes finally meeting hers. "Don't you think your fiance would be interested in a few of the details of the past two weeks?"

His voice was mocking, but his eyes were cold.

She colored slightly. "There are few other details that I could easily provide to him," she admitted.

His eyes took in her colored cheeks, noting her embarrassment.

"That is true," he finally murmured.

His eyes returned to the letter he still held in his hands, sweeping over its length again before seeming to settle on the ending.

"_I do miss you and hope to see you soon. Love always, your Bella._"

He recited the lines of the letter and then glanced back up into Bella's face.

"And _do_ you miss him?" he asked.

Her eyes dropped from his before she answered, "Of course."

"Hmmm…." He seemed to consider her words.

He took another step, coming to stand directly in front of her, nearly touching her. The nearness of him suddenly felt menacing, overwhelming. She moved back from him slightly, coming up against the hard edge of the desk behind her, but he only moved with her, maintaining that closeness.

"And you still love him," he stated. "And you will still marry him." There was an edge to his voice that she could not understand.

"I suppose I will, if you ever release me," she replied, hating herself for the trace of sadness she could detect in her voice.

She finally met his eyes again and saw within their endless green depths a hint of something almost feral. The feeling of menace struck her again, making her tremble.

"Well, _my Bella,_" he said, seeming to spit the last two words out. "I might not give you back."

The control he had exercised over the past few days evaporated. He grabbed her face, forcing her to tilt her mouth upwards so that he could possess it with his own. Briefly, she thought to resist, to hold herself back in a kind of pique for his coldness to her these past few days, but she couldn't. She melted against him, pressing her body to his with a sigh.

His arm slipped to her waist, lifting her up roughly and setting her down on the desk, pulling up her skirt. His hands slipped down to cup her buttocks, stroking across the satin of her skin, before pulling her hips forward with a jerk, so that he was nestled firmly in her warm center. He began to press forward, thrusting urgently against her while continuing to kiss her furiously.

The sensations his motions set off in her were unexpected, indescribable. They seemed to heat the very core of her body, sending sparks of flame across her stomach and chest, and then settling those flames low, burning in the pit of her stomach. Making her writhe with a sense of aching need. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and groaned with pleasure when she could feel him thrusting even closer to the center of her need. A center that was now wet and warm, ready for him to possess it.

His mouth left hers, trailing kisses across her cheek and onto her neck, nibbling and licking on the soft, sensitive skin there. The slight stubble on his face that both tickled and scratched her made the kisses all the better. It took her breath away. Made her gasp and clutch his hair, pressing him even tighter against her neck, inviting him to kiss her there more, and roughly if he'd like.

"Oh, Edward," she sighed into his ear. "I've missed your kisses so much."

At her words, he grew still. He drew back and looked down into her face for several seconds. With the passing of each second, his face grew colder. She could see the curtain slowly being drawn across his features, cutting her off from him once more. And with the drawing of the curtain came a cold finality that seemed to rip her heart in two.

He moved away from her and she watched in horror as he refolded her letter and held it out to her.

"Here. Take you letter," he said curtly. "You have my permission to mail it."

And without another word, he turned to leave.

"No!" she cried, flinging herself onto the floor and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

He stopped.

"Please, Edward," she pleaded, brokenly. "Please don't do this! Don't just ignore me! " Horrifyingly, she noticed that she had begun to cry. Bella pressed her forehead against the small of his back, her face resting on the cleft between his two buttocks. "I believe I would rather you punish me than ignore me again," she said, her face still pressed against him, her words muffled.

His cold hands gripped her arms, pulling them away from his waist.

"That is probably true," he said coolly, turning to look down at her. "But you are here at my command. I am not at yours."

"Then command me to do something!" she demanded, still upon her knees.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew that she had gone too far.

He studied her silently for a moment, seeming to battle some decision. Finally, he walked past her, towards a range of cabinets that lined part of the wall. She heard a cabinet open and something being removed. When he stood in front of her again, he held a number of items that resembled leather belts, complete with buckles, but were somewhat smaller.

"Get up, Bella. Go to the chair you see to your left and sit down."

She did so, with her heart pounding in her throat. She watched as he moved forward and then behind, quickly pulling her arms behind her, around the back of the chair, and fastening them together with one of the restraints. He moved back in front of her and knelt down. For one insane moment, she thought that his twisted notion of punishment would be to pleasure her (an idea she could not help but tremble in anticipation of), but he soon disabused her of this notion. He swiftly bound first one ankle and then the other to the legs of the chair and then stood to survey her. The position she was in pushed her chest outwards, causing her breasts to jut forward against the silky fabric of her shirt, her nipples, already hard from his touch on her legs, contracted almost painfully against the smooth caress of her shirt.

"You look very nice like this," he told her.

He continued to survey her for some moments, causing her to fidget and blush under his close scrutiny. Finally, he left the room, leaving her alone for several moments.

During the time that he was gone, her heart plummeted. Obviously, this would be her punishment. His complete absence from her. She bit her lip to suppress her sob. Truly, she would prefer the beating. If her love was like a flower, opened for the sun, then he was that sun and if he left, her love, like any other flower left in the dark, would surely die. And how could she continue to live without her heart? For that was what her love really was- her heart, transformed to something too delicate to live without its source.

She wilted, waiting for his return.

After several agonizing moments, he returned, with Victoria striding in his wake. She took one swift look at Bella, a fleeting look of amusement lighting in her eyes, as she passed.

"Victoria," Edward said, standing by the desk. "Place yourself across my desk. I wish to punish you. The punishment is for my pleasure, not as a consequence of any misbehavior on your part."

Without a word, Victoria approached the desk and draped herself across it, raising her skirt as she did so, exposing her creamy white legs and thighs and buttocks.

"Do you see, Bella, how perfectly submissive she is?"

He retrieved a paddle from his desk and then returned to stand behind Victoria. He threw a look at Bella.

"I want you to watch this carefully. Do not look away," he ordered.

Edward then turned to Victoria and began his punishment, striking softly at first, but then applying the paddle harder and harder, until her body actually began to shift slightly forward with each blow. The once snow white flesh turned deep red. Still, she did not cry out, she merely grunted and groaned as the intensity of the punishment increased. Bella was not certain if Victoria held herself back out of pride or because it truly did not hurt her. In any case, her admiration for the woman increased marginally. Under similar blows, she would have been inconsolable, wailing in her pain.

Finally, the punishment ended. Edward put the paddle down and then stood back.

"You may thank me, now, Victoria," he announced in a voice still cold, and somehow almost regal.

Victoria turned around and quickly lowered herself onto her knees. She bent forward to place one soft kiss on Edward's shoe and then sat back on her heels, head still lowered.

"Thank you, sir," she said, fervently.

Bella's heart began to hammer in her chest again as she viewed Victoria on her knees in front of Edward, dreading that at any moment he might open his pants and order her to pleasure him. Without voluntary thought, she leaned forward, in the attitude of one about to leap on an opponent, her greatest longing now to rip the hair from Victoria's head.

Edward looked at her in warning and she quickly forced herself to relax. He returned his gaze to Victoria.

"Victoria, crawl over to Bella, pull up her skirt and use your mouth to give her pleasure."

Bella's legs immediately tensed. There was nothing in the world she could want less than to be touched in such a way by that woman. Victoria, however, showed no hesitation whatsoever, and absolutely no revulsion as she crawled to Bella. She lifted the other woman's skirt, exposing the mound of hair at the bottom of her belly, then grasped her thighs, pulling her forward roughly, so that her slit would be open to her.

Bella whimpered, but said nothing. Her glance at Edward showed that his eyes had narrowed, clearly expecting some form of protest from her. Instead, she bit her lip again to stifle her outcry.

The other woman's mouth touched her, her tongue whipping out to tease her clit, as her fingers spread the lower lips even further apart. Her lips nuzzled the silken inner folds, seeming to delight in their taste. But though the other woman was clearly familiar with this act and able, no doubt, to elicit pleasure easily, Bella felt herself hold back. The motions of the woman's mouth was pleasant, but did not elicit the response that Edward's had so many nights ago.

She closed her eyes, and immediately Edward's face confronted her, sending a wave of intense pleasure through her body. She groaned softly, but then quickly tried to stifle her response. But no matter how hard she tried to avoid the memory, her mind continued to return to the night when Edward had knelt between her legs, kissing and licking her until her orgasm had overtaken her, despite herself. And now, the memory of it threatened to do the same. As Victoria continued to softly suck and lick her clitoris, using first the tip and then the flat surface of her tongue, she felt the tension grow. The buzzing and tightening that warned of her coming climax. She again tensed against her bonds, but this time in agonizing pleasure. Her breath began to pant.

"Oh, no," she moaned, shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it of a phantom.

And then he touched her, his hand slipping into her shirt to grasp her breast as his mouth came down to reclaim hers. Immediately, she opened her mouth to his, allowing his tongue to enter, her own tongue coming out to explore his. As the intensity of her pleasure grew, she began to suck his tongue almost frantically, groaning and pressing her face against his as finally the explosion consumed her.

When the final wave of the orgasm had washed over her, the muscles of her body relaxed, but she continued to kiss Edward softly until he pulled away. Without speaking a single word, he opened his pants and freed himself, stroking his organ furiously, inches away from her face. Very quickly, he reached his peak, grabbing her by the hair and shoving himself into Bella's mouth as the semen began to spurt. Her shock was brief, replaced by acceptance as she received his hot cum, swallowing as quickly as she could.

For just a moment afterward, he continued to lean over her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders as he struggled to catch his breath. Then he straightened himself, zipping up his pants, and addressing Victoria, who continued to kneel on the floor, though her mouth was no longer on Bella.

"You can release her and allow her to return to her room, now" he said. "Only release her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.

And then he walked away, leaving her alone with the other woman.

Victoria gave her a malicious smile as she undid the restraints holding her to the chair.

"I've wondered when I'd get a taste of you," she confessed, as she returned the things to the cabinet. "I'm only surprised it took so long. The master usually asks me to assist him in the training of his girls much earlier than this." She came back to stand by Bella.

Bella swallowed a sudden lump.

"Girls?" she asked weakly. "There have been others?"

"Of course," Victoria replied, her smile growing. "Did you think that you were special?"

The words stung Bella into returning sharply, "Well, I noticed that he didn't seem too eager to have a taste of _you_."

Victoria's smile disappeared, replaced by a look of fury.

"Oh, I cannot wait to have you across my knee, twisting and crying as I blister your behind. I promise you, I will teach you what your true place is in this household and you will learn respect."

With these incredible words, she stormed out of the room, leaving Bella to stare behind her completely aghast.


	9. Jealousy

********A/N: As requested, here is a peek into Edward's head. To tell the truth, I feel a bit uneasy when it comes to writing from Edward's point of view. I know what his character is thinking and what his motivations are, but I've never written from a male perspective, and it's more difficult than I thought it would be. **

**I hope you enjoy it.**

**EPOV**

Edward sat alone in his study, thinking about Bella. This was not unusual for him. He had found himself doing this very thing time and again over the past several days. He wasn't happy with himself. In fact, at that very moment he could honestly say that he was disgusted with himself.

How could he have been so weak? What was this power she had over him?

He couldn't understand it. It was a complete mystery. But whatever it was, it had to be broken. To allow it to continue, to grow, until he actually began to believe that she belonged to him would be a danger, and not just to him. To all of them. Yes, she must learn to submit. Yes, she must accept ownership of herself by another, but that ownership would never b hid. She would never belong to him and he must accept that.

And he had fought so hard to pull away from her, to break the power she had over him. Wasn't that the entire reason he had left his home for so many days? Wasn't that why he had ignored her since his return?

Well, outwardly he ignored her. In truth, he had never been more aware of any other woman. He seemed to register her every breath, even the beating of her heart. It had been a torment for him, having her so near, knowing that he couldn't touch her. Not until he'd regained control of his errant emotions.

And then, just when he thought he was finally winning the battle, finally gaining some distance from her, he had lost his tenuous hold. Jealousy had gotten the better of him.

_Jealous of Mike Newton!_

He was disgusted by his own weakness. The entire battle was lost because of a letter.

_Damn Mike Newton! And damn that letter, too! _he thought, furiously.

Why had she written to him? In all this time, she had never so much as mentioned him, except when pointedly questioned about him, in his many efforts to ferret out useful information about his enemy.

_She must love him. Of course she must. She had accepted his proposal of marriage, hadn't she?_

Yes. But to see the words, right there in black and white. "I miss you," "love," and worst of all, "Your Bella." Seeing those words like that, in her own handwriting, had ignited a feeling of jealousy that he had never felt before.

_**His**_** Bella!** _**Mike's**_ **Bella!**

He could still feel the hatred that had surged through his veins when Bella had spoken so sadly about wishing to be set free so that she could return to Mike. Well, she would be returned to him in time. And perhaps she really would be happy, then. After all, she loved that odious man. She must have some idea of how he really was. Perhaps that was what she truly wanted. A hard and cruel master, for that is certainly the kind he would be.

_Well, perhaps she will belong to Mike one day, but for now she belongs to me! _

That thought had leapt into his mind, obliterating all logic.

He had kissed her. Another mistake.

All the effort of the past few days, suddenly wasted, lost in a weak moment. A moment that had threatened to take him right over the edge- until he was stopped short by her words.

Well, one word. "Miss."

That one word was all it took to bring him back to his senses.

"Miss..."

And **_did_** she miss Mike Newton?

Yes. And still loved him and would one day marry him. She had admitted as much. And that was a good thing, he told himself over and over. It would certainly help her when the time came to learn to submit as readily to Mike as she now did to him, a thought that brought another wave of helpless rage. He let the wave crest over him and pass.

Finally, he sighed, leaned his head to the side, resting it on his hand, thinking hard. About Bella, of course.

He just couldn't make sense of her at all. There were times when he could have sworn that her eyes shone with affection for him. Could he have been so wrong about that?

It was possible. He had to concede that. For a man who prided himself on his ability to read other people, he reluctantly had to admit to defeat in this. Always, he'd had almost an extra sense about these things, easily able to read people's character, their feelings, almost even their passing thoughts. It was his gift, he'd always believed. Nothing that rose to the level of the paranormal, of course. But still, it was an extraordinary skill.

But he had to admit that Bella stumped him. He could pick up some things, her face was very readable at times, reflecting her quick thoughts or deeper passions. But so many things slipped past him. Like the depth of her passions. It was unusual. It seemed almost to consume her. Even with Victoria, a woman she detested, she had responded. She resisted at first, of course. He could see her struggle. But then she had sunk into the pleasure, moaning and straining against her bonds. As he watched her, struggling in the chair, eyes closed and lips parted, he had found himself incredibly drawn to her. It was impossible to resist her pull. He approached her almost against his own will, reaching out to touch her silky skin and kiss her mouth.

That was another mistake. The flame that burned in her briefly engulfed him, too. Burning through his final resistance. Causing him to seek some form of possession of her. Some way to mark her as his own. But was he truly marking her or had she simply sunk deeper inside of _him_?

He shook his head in disbelief. He never would have believed, when he had first met her, that she could contain such a fire.

She had come to the interview, dressed in her little, yellow skirt, her hair neatly brushed, face looking freshly scrubbed, and he couldn't help but think that she looked like a school girl, innocent and sweet. Eager to meet her teacher's approval. Even so, sitting stiffly in her chair, knees pressed together, he could feel her stifled sensuality. He sensed a longing for pleasure that she had long repressed, unwilling to be "the wrong kind of girl." More importantly, he could sense that desire for submission which Mr. Newton had referred to. In her lowered eyes, bowed head, he felt a constant surrender, searching for its master.

And he had flattered himself that some part of her had desired him from the very moment they met. He believed, when their hands had touched in that first handshake, that she could feel the same excitement, like the crackling of electricity, that had sparked in him. And that, like every other sexual impulse she had ever felt, she had chosen to stifle it. It was this spark, combined with her desire to submit, that had convinced him that he could truly go through with Mike's plan. There would be no need for threats or locked doors. No force was necessary. Under the right circumstances, she would allow him to train her to Mike's specifications.

He used this thought to soothe his conscience. He knew this. In truth, he knew that he had little choice in the matter. There was little he wouldn't do in order to protect his brother- for that was how he always thought of him. To save him. After all, in a very real way, he was responsible for him, wasn't he?

_Yes._

Edward closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very weary.

**So there it is. A look inside that gorgeous man's mind. Some questions were answered, I hope. Others were left a mystery, to be revealed in later chapters.  
**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Strange Encounter

Later, during that long, dark night, as Bella tossed and turned, in a strange land between waking and sleeping, she was suddenly roused from her bed by a strange sound coming from outside her bedroom door. The sound was like the whispering of voices and murmurs.

She threw back her bed covers and rose from bed, creeping on quiet feet towards her door. Fear crawled over her, like a cold creature, inching towards her heart, remembering the dreams that had plagued her during those early days in the home.

_Perhaps there really is an intruder._

She paused, considering how to respond to the present danger. In the end she decided to steel herself and look through the door, confront whatever phantom might be waiting. Anything else would merely postpone her doom. As quiet as a cloud, she glided across her darkened room, til she reached her door, through which the sounds of whispering seemed to be growing ever softer. She took the handle and turned it slowly, inching the door open to peer out.

Nothing.

She opened the door further. Still nothing. Finally, she opened it as wide as possible and stood in the arch, turning her head from side to side. The room was quite empty, she could see that now. She walked towards the door leading to the hallway and pressed her ear against it, listening hard for any further sounds. She heard nothing at first. But as she stood listening, straining her ear for even the smallest of sounds, she thought she caught the sound of soft footsteps and a gentle shushing, like the closing of a door.

She opened her door and stepped out cautiously into the dark hallway. At first, she noticed nothing. But as her eyes searched the gloom she noticed, from further down the hall and across the great landing, the faint glow of light coming from beneath a door. She knew from her earlier tour of the home that these were Edward's quarters, although she had never been in them. She approached his room, and with every step she could discern the increasing smell of smoke.

Truly alarmed now, she quickened her pace, racing to his room. Upon reaching his door, she found it half open.

"Edward?" she called into the room.

There was no response. She pushed the door further open and peered inside.

Edward lay in a deep sleep upon his bed, a decanter of whiskey on the table beside him, a half empty glass beside that. And on his bedspread, very near the floor, was a small fire, just beginning to truly catch.

"Edward!" she shouted, racing to his side. "Wake up! Wake up!"

She grabbed a pitcher of water that also lay on his table and doused the flames. By then, Edward had roused himself, looking up with bleary eyes.

"Bella!" he exclaimed in great surprise. "Is that you?"

"Well, of course it is!" she retorted, much too alarmed to be concerned with respect.

"Why the hell are you throwing water at me?"

"I'm not!" she declared. "I'm putting out a fire!"

At her words, his eyes grew clearer, sharper. He sat up, looked around, then focused on the scorched portion of his bed covers, taking in a sharp breath.

Bella watched as he reacted to proof of the fire. When she thought about it later, she came to believe that his first reaction had been one of horror. The kind of innate horror that some people have when confronted with a spider. But within a moment he appeared to regain control of his own emotions, focusing on her face with a watchful expression.

"And what brings you here, Bella?" he asked. "Why are you my saving angel?"

"I thought I heard a noise and had gone out of my room to check. I could smell the smoke in the hallway," she replied.

His eyes narrowed. "A noise? What kind of noise?"

"To tell the truth," she replied, "it sounded like whispers and footsteps, as strange as that may sound."

He watched her expectantly, evidently waiting for her to continue.

"I believe it might be an intruder," she confessed. "In fact, he might still be in the house," she pointed out.

"Yes," he agreed slowly. "Of course, an intruder. And of course, you had to leave your bed to confront this intruder, dressed only in your snowy white nightdress."

She reddened, feeling that he was teasing her now.

"I was very cautious," she replied, jutting out her chin. "And it is a good thing that I did come, or the fire might have been much worse."

He seemed almost amused by her, smiling softly as he took in her appearance even more closely. She began to feel quite foolish, in her long cotton gown with its halter sleeves, thinking she must look just like a frightened child.

"Yes, of course," he said at last. "And thank you. I mean that sincerely." His voice left no doubt of his sincerity.

He stood up, pulling his sodden covers from the bed, and throwing them carelessly to the side.

It was at that moment that Bella realized exactly how he was dressed. Or rather undressed. He wore only his underpants, the material of which left little to the imagination, though they were in a longish, boxer style. She had never seen him so undressed before, and at first she was simply astonished, unable to give much attention to the particulars of his appearance. But then she did begin to take note.

Of course, she had known that he was tall and trim. That much she knew from seeing him in clothes. But she had never realized how finely muscled he was, or the beauty of his skin that seemed to glow, like a polished pearl. Seeing him completely uncovered like this was something of a blow. She began to feel the absurdity of believing she could ever maintain his interest. She felt herself becoming diminished in his eyes, feeling as though he must see her as she now saw herself, reflected, like the ghost of his own beauty.

_No wonder his interest is waning._

She looked up into his face. His eyes were on hers, watching as she surveyed him. She shifted, feeling suddenly awkward to be so caught.

"I think that we should try to find this intruder," she murmured, wishing to distract him. "Obviously, he means more mischief. He has already tried to burn you in your bed."

He sighed.

"Yes, the intruders. Of course," he said. "I will go and check on them. You stay here."

He took a few steps, but then stumbled, nearly tripping on a discarded shoe.

"Edward!" she cried, placing a hand on his arm to steady him.

"Calm yourself, Bella," he said with some amusement. "I'm not suddenly overcome by those meager flames. The smoke hasn't bothered me," he assured her. "This is just the result of engaging in too many morose thoughts. Or rather, the result of trying to drown those thoughts in whiskey," he finished in a wry tone.

She eyed him sharply for the first time, taking in his slight unsteadiness and the hint of whiskey that hung around him.

"Oh, really!" she exclaimed. "You could not have chosen a worse night to indulge in that disgusting habit! How are you to confront anyone in the state that you are in? Drunk!"

She truly was annoyed now, feeling the vulnerability of their situation was worsened by his condition.

He only laughed again, throwing an arm around her waist and drawing her to him.

"Ah! And now you have become my prim, little school girl again," he said, still laughing. "Or maybe you are more like a somber little nun, the way you chastise me."

His eyes danced with laughter as he lowered his head to kiss her mouth. But she turned away from him, growing more annoyed with every word he spoke.

_Levity at a time like this! _she fumed.

He tangled a hand in her hair and pulled her face back to him, kissing her hard on the mouth, though not lingering over the kiss. It lasted just long enough for her breath to quicken and her posture to soften. Then he pulled back to smile down at her and say, "You stay right here. I'll be back for you in a moment."

So saying, he turned to leave the room.

She waited for him, straining to hear any sound from the other side of the door, but she could hear nothing. After a wait of several agonizing moments, he reappeared. His face was calm. If anything, it was calmer than before he had left.

"I take it you did not find an intruder," she said, already knowing what his answer would be.

"I found nothing," he declared. "Nothing. I didn't think I would. Most likely I was careless with a cigarette and caused this whole to-do."

He walked further into the room, closer towards her. Suddenly, she was very much aware of his state of undress and the beauty his body presented. Again, she felt uncomfortable, remembering his earlier rebuffs and thinking of her inadequacies.

"I will just return to my room, then," she said, eager to hide. She walked past him and had actually made it to the door before he caught up with her.

"I haven't given you permission to leave," he said, placing a hand on the door.

She turned to look at him sharply, causing him to smile again.

"Don't look at me like that," he joked. "Did you really think I would let you off the hook so easily, now that I have you where I want you?"

He leaned towards her, one hand on either side of her slender frame, pressing against the door. The nearness of him was breathtaking, overwhelming.

"I-I didn't s-say that," she stuttered, suddenly finding it very difficult to think.

"No, you didn't," he agreed. He leaned down, rubbing his nose against the side of her neck, inhaling deeply.

"You smell lovely. Did you know that?"

"Ummmm..."

His fingers lost themselves in her hair, his lips on her neck, his body moved forward to press against her. She could feel the sudden hardness of him, combined with the satin of his skin as she raised her hands to touch his shoulders. Her response to him was immediate. She was almost embarrassed by the sudden warmth between her legs, the quickness of her response.

"You really do look like an angel," he mused, almost to himself. "Dressed all in white, as you are now. Or perhaps you are more like a bride, trembling on the brink of discovery."

His hands left her hair to move down to the length of her nightgown, clutching the material and pulling it up, exposing her legs and waist- and her white panties. Edward looked down, then looked back up into her face.

"Panties?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Only when I sleep at night," she reluctantly confessed. "I thought it would be ok if it was in my own room."

"No, Bella. No panties at all. Ever."

Edward knelt down in front of her, keeping her nightgown lifted, looking at her white clad pussy. He leaned forward, pressed his nose against her mound, and inhaled deeply.

"You really do smell lovely," he said again. "Everywhere."

She watched him kneeling before her, his face pressed against her, and had to bite her lips to keep from moaning out loud. The warmth between her legs was suddenly very urgent. When he pressed his lips against her, kissing her through the fabric of the panties, she couldn't stop herself from pressing forward, offering more of herself to him.

He stood up, releasing her nightgown.

"Take off your panties, Bella," he ordered.

She quickly complied.

"Go lay on the bed."

Again, she obeyed quickly.

She lay on the bed, watching as he moved forward slowly, much too carefully.

_He's still drunk,_ she thought.

He lay beside her on the bed, one hand supporting his head as he studied her face. After an interminable wait, he said, "Roll over, Bella. Lay on your side, facing away from me."

She rolled onto her side, wondering what he was going to do next. She felt him slide against her, pressing his body against hers, he pushed her hair to the side, and began to softly kiss and bite her neck and shoulders, sending chills down her arms. Almost without thought, she reached back to cup his head, fingers gripping his hair, as her hips began to move backwards, softly rubbing against his hardness.

Inexplicably, she felt him laughing against her shoulder.

"Why are you laughing?" she asked in a shaky voice.

He didn't answer her question, instead continuing to kiss her as his hand reached forward to cradle her breast.

"Bella," he whispered. "If I ask you something, do you promise to tell me the truth?"

"Always," she replied, just as softly.

He paused, his lips halting for just a moment.

"Do you...?" he stopped. Another moment passed. "Are you afraid of me?" he breathed.

"Yes," she replied without hesitation.

"Of course you are. What a silly question."

He resumed kissing and nibbling her.

"I'm not afraid of your punishments," she said, interpreting his response. The last word nearly caught in her throat on the way out.

"Oh, of course not," he agreed, licking behind her ear. "Because you enjoy them too much to ever be afraid of them."

"I do not!" she protested. "What a disgusting thing to say!"

He only laughed again, nibbling on her earlobe before replying.

"Bella, you are such a little liar. I bet you're soaking wet right now, just thinking about it."

His free hand slipped down to the hem of her gown, raising it up to expose her lower half.

Her breath caught in her throat. She was finding it very difficult to concentrate on her argument. With difficulty, she focused her mind.

"If, if I am...what you said I am...you know...," she faltered.

"Wet?" he supplied.

"Yes. If I am, it's only because y..." but here she bit her lip and refused to speak more. She couldn't say that it was because she was so moved by him- by the way he looked, and smelled, and sounded, and most of all, by the way he made her feel when he touched her. She just couldn't say that out loud.

He didn't seem disturbed by her half sentence. His hand ran down her leg, wrapping around her thigh and pulling her leg slightly up and backwards, so that it rested on his. In this position, she was open for him when his long, cool fingers finally touched her between the legs. His fingers slid across her swollen clit, causing her to moan and push back against him. One fingertip touched her vagina, swirling just around the opening.

"Very wet," he observed. "You know, Bella, I believe you have earned a spanking for this misbehavior."

"Hhmmm?"

"For lying to me," he explained, pressing the tip of one finger inside of her.

"Oh," she breathed, beginning to press backwards and forwards, trying to get more of him inside.

He finally obliged her by pushing his entire finger inside and moving it gently back and forth, curling his finger slightly upwards in such a way that caused her to tremble with pleasure. His thumb made circles across her clit and his lips continued to paint kisses on her, reaching forward from time to time to kiss her face as well.

"Oh, that feels so good!" she gasped a few moments later, as the all too familiar feeling of orgasm began to climb through her.

Unexpectedly, he nipped her shoulder sharply. Her orgasm suddenly sparkled across her, taking her completely by surprise.

She screamed out loud and rocked against him, pressing herself back into the cradle of his arms and opening her neck to the bite of his teeth, shaking more with every nip, every pinch of his teeth seeming to set off another small explosion deep inside of her.

For just a moment afterwards, she lay motionless, catching her breath. Then she rolled towards him. Her eyes moved across him almost hungrily, resting on the bulge in his underpants.

"Do you want..." she began, but then stopped, uncertain how to go on.

There was no need to worry. He understood what she meant. But he shook his head. "No. You don't need to do anything for me. Don't look at me like that. I've just had too much to drink, that's all. Don't worry. Tomorrow you will find yourself on your knees quite enough to satisfy."

Her eyes widened and she shivered. She struggled to think of something to say to that.

"So, I guess this means you're speaking to me again?" she whispered, feeling the inadequacy of those words.

Evidently, he did, too. He gave a very small laugh.

"I mean," she hurried on. "I mean, you're not ignoring me anymore."

His smile took on a note of bitterness. "As if I could stay away from you," he said.

His words sent a thrill of hope through her and perhaps that was reflected on her face. He studied her expression. She thought she could see in his strange eyes a hint of some debate, something left unsaid.

"Bella," he began, but then paused.

Suddenly, he rolled on top of her, forcing her legs apart, settling closer to her, and kissing her almost desperately. He pulled away to look into her face again. He spoke to her then, with words that resounded with earnestness. "Bella, you are in so much danger, and you don't even realize it."

"I don't mind the danger," she replied in a shaking voice, thinking he referred to the taking of her virginity. He could have it if he wanted it.

At her words, he closed his eyes. For several seconds, he remained on top of her, still as a stone, though his face twisted as though he were in the grips of some great struggle. Finally, his face stilled, becoming a mask of stone. He rolled off of her and let out his breath in a deep sigh before looking at her again.

"You really shouldn't be here," he told her, his voice taking on its usual controlled tone. "I've had far too much to drink and I'm afraid I might say or do something I'll regret. That we both might regret. You should go back to your rooms."

Coldness swept across her.

She rose slowly from the bed, pulling down her gown and walking on trembling legs towards the door, determined not to cry before she left his sight. She did not believe for one moment that he was still under the influence of alcohol. In fact, she believed that he had begun to sound quite sober.

_I do believe that I prefer him drunk,_ she thought as she made her way to her room.

**Thank you for reading this story.  
**


	11. A Talk Between Brothers

The morning came with a bullet. One that was lodged in Edward's aching head.

_Damn, the sun, _Edward thought as soon as he opened his eyes. _Owwww..._

He squinted against the early morning light and rolled wearily out of bed. For a moment, he held steady, gripping his bedside table, waiting for the nausea to come. When it never did, he breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps today would not be so bad after all.

He had just begun to make his way towards the bathroom, walking gingerly to keep his head from throbbing even more, when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, trying not to whimper from the storm of pain those words set off in his head.

_Aspirin. Definitely need about five aspirins. _

Emmett walked into the room, energetic as usual, and looking as if he had already been working for at least two hours. Edward eyed him balefully.

"Good morning, Emmett. What brings you here at the break of dawn?"

Emmett rolled his eyes.

"Break of dawn? It's 9:00. I've been up for hours." He sounded both amused and disapproving.

He closed the door behind him and surveyed the room, taking in the whiskey, scorched bed covers, discarded clothes, and...white panties. Edward saw them at the same time Emmett did. The entire evening suddenly came back in a sickening rush. The fire, Bella, his words...

His head did a curious double throb and his stomach clenched with the first sign of nausea.

_Maybe this is going to be a really bad day after all. _

"Late night visitor?" Emmett joked.

"You could say that," Edward responded, coming forward to take the panties from the floor.

"Stay right here," he said. "I need to get some aspirin."

He limped to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. In the safety of the bathroom, he looked down at the strip of white cloth he still clutched in his hands.

_Bella._

He couldn't stop himself from pressing the panties against his face and inhaling. They smelled just like her. Lovely and delicious.

_Stop It!_

He realized with dread that his obsession with her was getting completely out of hand. He had almost given the entire thing away last night. Nearly told her all of their secrets. For just one second, he could imagine the look that would have come into her eyes if he had. The hurt, the accusation, and finally, the loathing. She would never willingly let him touch her again, he knew it. Of course, that would probably also mean that she would despise Mike Newton as well, he mused. That would almost make it worthwhile. He let that play a few times through his head, relishing the imaginary scene where she threw his ring back in his face and stormed away.

He smiled. But then other images intruded. Images of his brother, the very one that now stood waiting outside the bathroom door, in a drab prison cell, suffering yet again because of his mistakes.

Edward's mouth twisted into a bitter frown. He balled the white panties up and threw them in the laundry hamper, quickly turning his back on them and walking away. Another few steps brought him to the medicine cabinet, and there, mercifully, was the little blue bottle.

_Thank God for aspirin!_

He swallowed the pills down quickly, refilled the glass with water and returned to Emmett in the other room, carrying the glass.

"Well, bro," Emmett said as soon as Edward entered the room. "Do you care to explain what happened last night? It looks like you had quite a little party in here."

"No, Emmett. I don't," he replied brusquely. "To tell the truth, my head hurts and I feel like shit. I'm in no mood to talk." He paused and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take these things out on you. I'm just not feeling very well. Please, just let me know why you're here. I'll try to be a bit more civil."

His brother gave him a shrewd look. "That girl's getting to you, isn't she?"

Edward said nothing.

Emmett sighed. "Look, that's actually why I'm here. I've been watching this whole thing. The way things are going between the two of you. I got to tell you, I don't like it. I think that girl is nothing but trouble, at least for us."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you! You're not doing things according to the plan. By now, she should be much further along. She should already be training to please others, not just you. Hell, Edward, you still haven't even fucked her! By now, you should have already been in that pu-"

Suddenly, Edward's glass flew across the room, straight at Emmett's head. He ducked quickly and the glass flew by, missing him by inches. It smashed into the wall behind him.

"Don't you dare talk about Bella that way!" Edward snarled.

"Jesus Christ!" Emmett exclaimed. "You're completely losing your mind! What the hell did I just say that you haven't said yourself, a million times before, about a million other girls! Don't start putting on an act like you suddenly give a shit about this one, because you don't! You're the same old Edward you've always been. You're only after one thing from her. The same thing you want from any other girl. And you know what that one thing is. You don't give a shit about who they are or what they want. Hell, look at Rosalie. Look at what you did to her!"

"I never did a goddamned thing to Rosalie! Not a single thing that she didn't beg me to do!" As soon as he said the words, he regretted it. His brother's face flinched, as if he had been struck. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

His brother only gave him a strange, twisted smile and said, "That doesn't mean it isn't true, now does it. And I'm sorry, too. I know this whole thing is hard for you. I appreciate it, brother. I really do." He smiled at him and Edward could suddenly see his old friend, shining out beneath the anger. The same friend he had gone fishing with when they were both just kids, down at the local pond . The friend he had sneaked into bars with when they were both reckless teenagers. And the friend who had stayed by his side, through everything. Through his darkest hours. That friend's blue eyes looked at him so warmly, it was like being transported back to a time and place when all they had to worry about was what sort of mischief they should get into next.

"You don't have to thank me. You know that," he replied. He walked back to the bed and sat on its edge. "I do have a plan. Newton knows the details. I discussed everything with him from the beginning. I'm working on it, I really am. But it's going a bit slower than I thought it would. That's all. But by the time Mike comes back onto the scene, she will know everything there is to know about how to please a man sexually. She will no longer be a prude, I promise you that. On this one issue, I'm sure you'll agree she's made a lot of progress. She will also be fully and completely accepting of her masochistic nature. Even now, I think she begins to understand it. To know it for what it is. She will crave the discipline that he so eagerly wishes to give her. And she will learn to submit to him through this discipline." His words ended on a somber, weary note.

"But how are you sure she will submit to him as readily as she submits to you?" Emmett asked.

Edward's head jerked up. "Why do you ask that?"

Emmett shrugged his broad shoulders. "No reason. Just curious."

Edward continued to look at him sharply. "Well, of course she still loves him," he replied. "That alone should make her eager to please him. But more importantly, now that she knows the pleasure she can experience by simply following her nature, she will no longer resist him. And if the time comes for him to punish her, she will gladly submit to that as well, knowing the pleasure it will bring her. There is no need to worry about that. It's just a matter of timing. As soon as I feel comfortable about her progress, I can release her from my employment and have you drive her to the apartment Newton says he will arrange for her. Once she's there..." His voice trailed off. He didn't want to think about it.

Emmett watched him as he sat on his bed, head lowered dejectedly once again. A knowing look came into his eyes. He turned and walked towards the door, stopping and turning to face his brother, just before he left the room.

"But what happens if she falls in love with you instead?" he asked, with a bit of a smirk.

Then he left, closing the door behind him, leaving Edward to stare at the door completely dumbfounded.

Well, it looks to me like Edward is falling further and further under Bella's power. I really don't think he's a free man anymore, do you? I think his heart now belongs to Bella. But of course, the ultimate question is, what will he do about it? How will she react when the entire house of cards comes tumbling down? Forgive him for his part in the scheme or crush him?

**Thanks for reading. I know it's a short chapter. I'll try to get a longer one out soon. **


	12. Confessions and Lies

Bella looked out of her bedroom window again, spying into the back garden. Edward was still there, sitting on the garden bench amongst the rose bushes. He'd been there for quite some time, lost in thought. All around him, the blooms of roses danced, lightly swaying in the breeze, all ignored by the man who sat within them. He stared at the ground, somber and thoughtful.

_What is he thinking about? _she wondered for perhaps the hundredth time.

She wanted to go down to him, to speak with him, but something held her back. What if he didn't want to see her? Maybe that was the reason he had stayed hidden in his room the day before? She had assumed that he was under the weather, feeling the bad effects of too much alcohol, but what if she had been wrong? What if he had been avoiding her instead?

_Well, and so what if he was!_ she decided in an angry huff. _If he's avoiding me, he can damn well tell me why!_

She was surprised by her anger. She was usually much cooler, more in control of herself. Yet somehow, since she'd come into this home, she'd felt this control slipping away. As if everyday, she lost another part of herself.

_This house. Something about this place is changing me._

She looked around fearfully, but saw only ordinary walls and doors. There was nothing evil in the shadows. Only dust.

_I'm being silly_, she chided herself.

Truly though, there was something brooding about the home. Too many dark shadows in every corner. Perhaps she should go down into the garden, escape the gloom of the house. After all, why shouldn't she? It was only natural on such a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

She turned to leave the room, eager to be in the bright sunshine (and to see Edward, of course). She walked briskly out the door and down the stairs, hurrying into the kitchen. Once there, she paused and looked out the window, hiding behind the curtain, throwing furtive glances at Edward. Just to determine where he was. She could see him, still sitting on the bench, surrounded by the roses. Again she felt the indecisiveness, but this time she hastily brushed it away, feeling more certain than ever that now was the time to talk with him. It was foolish to play these games with him any longer. Either he wanted her or he didn't, and she was determined to confront him, to find out once and for all how he felt.

With this determination burning in her heart, she walked briskly to the door, took a deep breath and walked out into the sunshine.

It was a beautiful day. Warm and breezy, with the lush perfume of roses and gardenias wafting over the deep, green grass, enveloping her in the richness and the promise of that summer day. She felt almost alight with the budding of life that it held. For just one moment, Bella closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling cleaner than she had for quite some time. Her thoughts were clear. Her decisions, resolute. She opened her eyes and turned her head, looking over at Edward.

Whether he had noticed her or not, she wasn't certain. His expression had not changed, as far as she could tell. It struck her suddenly that he seemed almost sad. Downcast. And she remembered what he had said the other night about having morose thoughts. All at once, the urge to be with him was almost overpowering. She felt the need to embrace him, to comfort him, to help in whatever way she could.

She crossed the lawn, entering the semi-circle of red roses, and stood before him. When she was standing so close that she nearly touched him, he finally acknowledged her.

"Hello, Bella," he said in his usual, silky voice. Beneath his customary coolness, she heard something like resignation in his voice.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cullen," she replied.

He smiled at her formality.

"You should only address me as 'Mr. Cullen' during business hours," he stated. "You may call me Edward at most other times. Please have a seat" He indicated that she should sit beside him, moving over to give her room.

"Thank you," she said, taking her seat beside him.

A moment passed in silence, both of them lost in their thoughts, gazing at the bushes and flowers that Emmett had so lovingly planted and tended with such care.

"Edward," Bella said, finally breaking the silence, turning to look at him. "Is anything the matter? You seem...downcast."

If she expected him to discuss what was bothering him, she was disappointed. He merely answered, "I have a great deal on my mind," and said no more on the subject. "What about you," he said after a moment. "What is on your mind? What brings you outside today?"

She shrugged and looked down at the grass, suddenly feeling shy and unwilling to broach the subject.

When she didn't answer, Edward asked, "Are you looking for a way to escape?"

She looked up quickly, startled by his words. A smile played around his mouth, his eyes were teasing.

"No," she answered briefly. Escape had been the furthest thing from her mind.

Edward's smiled faded as he surveyed Bella's face carefully. An expression of such gravity now possessed him that she began to feel uneasy.

"You don't want to leave?" he asked, his tone somber, uncertain.

_Now is the time, _she realized. If she was going to confront him, there would be no better opportunity.

Bella took a deep breath, looking around once again at the lovely flowers, thinking hard about how best to answer this question. Finally, she met his eyes.

"Can I speak frankly?" she asked.

He nodded his head. "Of course."

"Edward," she began, then stopped, seized again with awkwardness. Did she really want to say this? "Surely, you know," she finally said lamely, looking away from him.

Another silence ensued. He said nothing, waiting for her to go on.

When she realized that he was prepared to sit in silence as long as it took for her to continue, she took another deep breath, and spoke again. "No, I do not wish to leave," she said at last, in tones of great reluctance. "Obviously, I have never wished to go. In truth, I've never considered myself a prisoner. Did you really think that I was? If your intention was to keep me here against my will, you must have very little experience in such things, and your inexperience shows. I've been given extraordinary freedom."

She suddenly paused, waiting for his explosion, certain that she had now angered him. Instead he burst out laughing, the sound of which was so engaging that she soon found herself joining him. When the laughter died, he said to her, softly, "But aren't you still here against your will? I assure you, I will not let you leave."

"Perhaps I am," she replied. "But not in the way that you think."

"In what way, then?"

She didn't answer. Instead she asked him a question of her own. One that had been on her mind for quite some time.

"How long will you keep me? How long will I be your prisoner, as you like to say?"

"I don't know," he answered, somber again.

This answer did not reassure her.

"And what will happen to me when you are through with me?" she asked in a much smaller voice, almost speaking to herself.

He shot her a sharp glance. "I suppose you will marry your Mr. Newton. Isn't that what you want?"

She blinked her eyes, feeling an odd surprise at the mention of his name, as though Edward had mentioned the name of a stranger. "Of course," she replied, uncertainly. "You're right. That would be best. He's a very good man, after all. And, of course I care for him. Perhaps not the way...not the way some people care for their future husbands, but as much as he would want. In truth, he is not a very romantic man. That sort of sentiment does not matter much to him. I never thought it mattered much to me, either. I suppose if he still wants me, I could still marry him. Yes."

Edward snorted. "No. I suppose he isn't a very romantic person." His voice had a bite of anger in it. "But you never answered my question. Do you love him?"

"You always ask me that," she snapped, suddenly angry. "Why do you care, since you do not want me for yourself?"

He studied her face carefully before replying. "Let's both speak openly, or at least as openly as possible." It was his turn to take a deep breath. "Bella, I do care about.. what happens to you. Of course I do. No, I cannot keep you for myself. Even without other barriers, I don't know if that is something I will ever be capable of. But I want you to be happy." His eyes turned sharp, calculating. "Now tell me the truth, would you really want me to keep you? Really want to be with me, in whatever capacity I would want you? Even as nothing other than my whore?"

His last word caused her to flinch. _Whore_. Was that what she was? The word hurt her, cut her, ripped into the very fiber of her being, to cut away at the most precious part of herself, the thing that she held most dear. Her dignity.

"Is that all I will ever be to you," she whispered, her dark brown eyes searching his green ones. What she saw in them caused her even more pain. Deep within his eyes, she saw indecision, and beneath that doubt was a wall, the very one she had encountered many days before, when he had cut himself off from her completely. She knew that for the moment, he truly did not know what he wanted from her, but once his decision was made, it would be final. Even if that decision meant she would be thrown away, discarded by him completely.

_Anything but that!_ _Let him at least keep me for now. Let him at least pretend to care for me a little. Give me some of his attention. The future can take care of itself. For now, I want to be with him. _

And really, the longer she thought about his words, the more the word 'whore' seemed to suit her. What other word could so aptly describe her behavior with Edward? Her unfaithfulness to Mike?

"If that is all I can be to you, well...at least it is something. Besides, I thought this question was settled before," she finally said, her voice strained by her unshed tears. "You asked me before if I accepted that I belong to you and I answered you truthfully then. I do belong to you, whether you want me or not."

Silent tears now slipped down her cheeks. Edward watched them glisten on her face, seeming moved by something in her expression. His face twisted as his veneer of careful coolness cracked.

"Bella, please don't cry," he said, reaching out to brush her tears away with the tips of fingers, his voice sounding agonized. "I'm not worth it. Really, I'm not."

"Yes, you are." She snuffled, trying to stop her pointless crying.

"No!" he cried out fiercely. "I am not! Didn't you hear me tell you that I would only use you, treat you like a whore, and then send you back to this _dog _that is waiting for you? How could you still want to be with me? Can't you see that I am...I am not the kind of man you should care about. I am not a good person, can't you see that?"

Bella heard the depth of his self-loathing for the first time, shocked that he could ever feel that way about himself. Somehow, despite everything, she could never see him as anything other than perfect. The pain raged in his eyes, telling her more poignantly than any words that he could speak just how difficult it was for him to hurt her the way that he was doing. Of course, it was not his fault that he did not care for her the same way that she cared for him. She couldn't let him suffer like this. She laid her hand on his face, marvelling at the softness of his skin in contrast to the roughness of his cheeks.

"Stop torturing yourself," she told him. "Stop blaming yourself for everything. You are not the bad guy in this. You've never promised me anything. Never led me on with lies. I knew from the beginning that you would never...care for me the way that I care for you. But I couldn't stop myself from...from wanting you."

"Bella, you don't know what you are talking about," he said harshly. His eyes closed and he took another deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he was much calmer, his expression considering. "So, you want me?" he asked her.

This time, it was her turn to snort. "Obviously," she retorted. "I've never wanted anyone the way that I want you."

"Really? Not even your fiance?" he probed.

Fresh tears started in her eyes. She blinked them away, trying to appear much less affected than she was. "I suppose with my fiance it is just different. Perhaps marriage is not built on, on this sort of...attraction. Isn't it supposed to be built on much deeper feelings and ideals?"

A look of understanding crossed his face. "So, your feelings for him are different? Perhaps better? Is that what you mean? What you feel for me is only lust. Maybe fascination. But nothing more."

"That's not exactly what I meant," she disagreed. "Honestly, how can I explain to you how I feel when I don't understand it myself?"

To her surprise, he chuckled softly. "That's a very good question," he said beneath his breath.

She looked up at him, thinking to question him about his words, only to catch her breath as the beauty of him struck her again. The afternoon sun had sunk lower in the sky, sending fingers of gold and burnt sienna to play across his skin and settle into his hair. His once auburn hair was now turned into a golden halo that shimmered light onto his face and into his eyes, making them look like sunshine trapped in pools of green water.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, the expression on her face seeming to intrigue him.

"That you look like an angel," she admitted, speaking the truth before she was able to stop herself. She was immediately embarrassed, blushing scarlet at her words.

"You know as well as anyone that I am no angel, Bella." His words again held the tone of self-disgust.

She sighed, making a sudden decision. "Edward, do you remember what I said the other night, about being afraid of you?"

He nodded his head.

"I never did tell you what it is that I am afraid of," she continued resolutely. "I'm not afraid of being kept here against my will or of being punished by you. Those things do not bother me the way that they should. What I am really afraid of is that you will send me away. Whether you are an angel or the devil, I don't care. I want to be with you, whatever you are. I know it's irrational, it doesn't make sense to me, either. All I know is that I want you. This..lust..or whatever it is that you want to call it, that's all I can think about. I want to see this through, follow it to wherever it takes me, for as long as you want me."

Her words intrigued him. He studied her for several moments, seeming to weigh the truthfulness of her words. "So, you are offering yourself to me, right now?" he finally asked. "For whatever length of time I want you? In whatever capacity I want you? You are choosing to submit to me, of your own free will?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice quivering only slightly.

"You say this, knowing that you will be punished, both for your failures and simply for my amusement?" he asked. "Remember, I cannot change. Don't agree to this in the belief that I will. I will not become a softer man."

She reached out, took one of his hands in both of hers and raised it to her lips, pressed a kiss into the palm of it, the very palm that had punished her so severely not too long ago. Edward gasped at the softness of her touch, his eyes darkening with sudden passion.

"I wouldn't want you any other way," she admitted.

He took a deep breath and said, "Then stand up and remove your clothes. Everything. Right now."

She stared at him in shock. Surely, he could not be serious!

"What?" she asked in a shocked voice.

"Bella, that was an order. Do not disobey me again. Stand up and remove your clothes. I want to see all of you."

After another moment's hesitation, she stood up, taking her place in front of him, and began to unbutton her blouse. The shaking of her fingers made it almost impossible to grasp the small pearl buttons, they kept sliding out from between her fingers. Pushing them through the tiny buttonholes became a monumental task. In the end, the buttons were very nearly ripped off as she forcibly pressed them through the impossible openings. She shrugged the shirt from her shoulders, feeling the sun caress her shoulders and the tips of her breasts. Next came her shoes and then her skirt. The button and zipper on the skirt proved as difficult to undo as the buttons on her blouse. She fumbled with them, keenly aware of the silent man who sat in front of her, watching as she slowly revealed herself to him.

Finally, the skirt was removed and she stood before him, utterly naked. She had never felt so revealed before, as she did now, in the bright sunlight, realizing that at any moment, Victoria or Emmett might walk by. Even now, they might be watching, unnoticed by her, through some window or door. Worst of all, perhaps a curious neighbor or passerby might chance to look over the fence. Unlikely as that might be, the awareness that it could happen, that it was within the realm of possibility, caused her the most acute mortification. She could feel the blood rush to her face and color even the top of her chest with embarrassment.

He studied her silently, looking at her from head to toe, reaching out to tweak the tips of her nipples, and then running his fingers across her stomach and over the front of her thighs.

"Turn around," he ordered.

She turned, presenting her backside to him for inspection. The tips of his fingers ran down the side of her legs and across the white globes of her butt, sending chills across her skin. Unexpectedly, his fingers pried between the cheeks of her ass, pulling them apart also for his inspection. She sucked her breath in sharply, fighting the urge to jerk away from him.

"Bend over. Place your hands on your knees."

In this new position, she was even more exposed. Her humiliation churned in her stomach, making her feel almost sick. A finger reached out to trail across her puckered back hole, tracing its circle.

"No," she protested in a voice almost too low to hear.

"Yes," he countered. "This belongs to me as well, now. All of you."

She let out a low moan of fear.

Suddenly, he withdrew his hands.

"Turn back around," he told her.

She straightened up and turned to face him again, her face flushed, unable to look him in the face.

"Now rest this foot-" he indicated her right one-"on this armrest." He pointed at the one beside him.

She raised one foot, resting it on the armrest. Her other foot remained firmly on the ground. This position brought her pussy directly in front of his face and parted it slightly for him. One of his hands reached beneath the thigh of her upraised leg, grasping the top tightly, while the other reached behind her on the other side, stroking and squeezing her butt.

"Bella, you still have a spanking coming to you. Do you remember what for?" he taunted.

At the mention of a spanking, she began to quiver, her eyes darting down to meet his. He looked back at her patiently, waiting for her to answer.

"N-no," she stuttered.

He smacked her hard on the backside, causing her to jerk and cry out. "During your punishment, you will address me only as 'Sir.' Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she answered quickly, before he could smack her again.

"Now, answer my question, and truthfully this time. Do not lie to me!" He said sternly, smacking her again as he chastised her. "Why are you being punished?"

At first, she stubbornly remained silent, refusing to speak the words he wanted her to say. But after a number of very painful swats on her tender bottom she relented, finally crying out, "Because I lied to you!"

"About what?" he asked, slapping her very hard on a spot that was already red and sore, causing her to yelp.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. "About being spanked! I lied about enjoying it! Sir!" she added, hastily.

"So you are admitting that you do like it?"

"Yes, sir!" she cried out as his hand came down particularly hard on her soft upper thigh.

"Say it then," he ordered sternly.

"I-I-I do like it. I like it when you spank me!" Tears of pure humiliation came into her eyes, slipping out to make warm trails down her face.

"Yes, you do," he agreed, satisfied with her answer. "Touch yourself, Bella. Feel yourself between your legs."

Despite her embarrassment, she complied immediately, hoping to end the punishment quickly. One of her fingers slipped between her legs, touching the warm furrow there, feeling the slick, soft folds.

"Do you feel how wet you are?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she whispered. She was very wet and very warm. There was no point in lying about it. The proof was right before his eyes.

"Keep touching yourself," Edward ordered. "I want you to make yourself come for me."

She gasped. "I can't do that!" she protested. "It's disgusting!"

He grasped her raised thigh tightly in order to steady her and then placed a number of vicious swats on her other leg, making her whimper and plead.

"Please, stop. That hurts! Ouch! Please don't make me do that!"

"Bella, one more word from you and you will find yourself bound tightly, strapped to a bench, and paddled so cruelly, you will agree to anything to make it stop."

His tone left no doubt that he was telling the truth.

Still reluctant, flushed with mortification, she began to stroke herself, imitating the motions he had used on her. He watched her closely as she masturbated for his amusement, inches from his face. The final humiliation was that she was so aroused, she knew it would not be long before she came, no matter how much she might wish the opposite. Her eyes closed as her excitement grew, her legs tightening and shaking slightly, her pelvis thrusting softly back and forth. Unexpectedly, his hand came down hard on her bottom, in an echoing _smack_! The pain awakened an even deeper desire in her, making her shiver, so close now to her orgasm.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned, moving her finger faster, harder on her sensitive clitoris.

He resumed the spanking in earnest now, coming down hard on both her butt and her thigh, all the while speaking to her in a low, taunting voice. "That's right, Bella. Rub your pussy for me. Make yourself come. Does it turn you on to know that someone might be watching you right now? Seeing how dirty you are? I hope they are. I want the world to see what a dirty little slut you are."

His words pushed her over the edge, ripping the lid off of something deep within herself and letting out a torrent of anger and humiliation and worst of all, deep, painful desire. A kind of primal, sexual need.

"Oh my God!" she screamed, throwing back her head, coming so hard, she would have fallen over if Edward hadn't held her tightly in his grip, keeping her steady. Her hands reached out now to touch him instead, touching first his shoulders and then his hair, as his grasp on her thigh loosened and she fell forward onto him, settling onto his lap, straddling him. Her hands were not gentle, burning as she still was with the lust he had ignited, she grasped and pulled his hair, forcing his head back and his mouth up to hers as she kissed him hard, moaning, thrusting against him.

He grasped her hips to push her away, but she only tightened her hold on him, clenching her knees against him tightly, forcing her tongue into his mouth, caught up in a frenzy of need. And she could feel his need, too, hard and urgent against her naked stomach and cunt.

"Bella!" he gasped out, finally breaking away from her. "Wait-"

"No," she groaned, cutting him off, pressing even harder against his stiff prick. "Please, Edward, please. I need you!"

Whatever final restraint he had, whatever his reason for holding back, could not hold up against her pleading. His resolve crumbled at once, and he kissed her back, finally groaning with his own desire. He stood up, with her still wrapped around him, his hands holding her securely against him, and began to walk towards the house.

"Where are we going?" she asked breathlessly.

"To my room," he answered, before kissing her again.

Unbeknownst to them, two pairs of eyes watched their progress across the lawn. Two pairs of eyes that had watched them all this time. One pair watched with lust and envy, but the other watched with pure hatred.

**Thank you waitforme2 for nominating me for an Indie Twific award! Even if Into the Grey House doesn't make it into the contest, I'm really happy that you thought my writing was good enough to nominate. Thank you so much! xoxo**

**Thanks for reading. Sorry it took so long to get an update. **

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	13. Thank You and Please

**WARNING: THIS IS A DARK ****_FANTASY_****. IT IS NOT ABOUT THE BDSM COMMUNITY OR HOW TO PRACTICE SAFE, SANE AND CONSENSUAL BDSM (WHICH YOU SHOULD). IT'S MEANT TO GET YOU HORNY, NOT INFORM YOU. IF THIS KIND OF FANTASY DOESN'T EXCITE YOU, PLEASE DON'T READ.  
**

How the two made it up the stairs without mishap is a mystery. Between Edward's feverish kisses and Bella's fumbling attempts to undo his shirt, they surely should have crashed and fallen on the stairs. That didn't happen. Instead, the two did make it to the top of the staircase with Bella still wrapped tightly around Edward. All along the way, there were many stops, during which Edward would pause to press Bella against the wall, kissing her fiercely and thrusting his hardness into her warm center.

"Bella, I just might fuck you right here," he would growl in her ear, making her moan with nearly unbearable desire.

"The room," she would encourage, voice husky and low. "Bring me to your room."

So it was that the lustful couple burst into Edward's bedroom, their attention so focused on one another that at first they did not notice the silent woman kneeling in the center of the room. It was Victoria, her tumble of red hair loose and wild around her face, the red curtain falling forward as she bowed her head, eyes on the floor. She was completely naked, kneeling in a posture of complete submission, knees parted, hands on thighs.

Bella was shocked, but Edward appeared to be just as surprised as she was to see the woman there. He let Bella go, allowing her to stand, before addressing Victoria.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

He did not sound pleased at all. Bella's glance at his face assured her of his anger. His lips, normally so full and soft, were hardened, his eyes narrowed.

"I am here at your command, Master," she replied, eyes still lowered, the picture of submission.

"I did not command you to be here, Victoria," he spit out. "Now get up and leave! Immediately!"

"Very well, sir," she replied, appearing completely unconcerned about both his anger and his dismissal of her.

She stood, unabashed in her nakedness, and lightly stepped towards the door. As she reached it, Edward called to her.

"Victoria," his voice was like ice. "I will deal with you later. Do not believe that this stunt will go unpunished."

At his words, a tremor went through her and she paused, hand on the doorknob.

"Yes, sir," she replied in a low voice, "I understand."

And then she left, closing the door behind her, leaving Bella and Edward to stare at one another. The naked presence of the woman had hit Bella like a bucket of ice water. The fact of Edward's involvement with Victoria struck her again, but somehow stronger than ever before. So great was her jealousy, in fact, that she felt a kind of blind hatred boiling up inside of her. A hatred for both Edward and Victoria.

She took in his appearance, his tousled auburn hair and his rumpled, partly unbuttoned shirt, and she sneered. Her lip curling back as she realized that he probably looked this way for the hated Victoria as well, and if Bella had not been with him, it would have been Victoria who enjoyed his caresses right now. Not her. Her anger, if anything, burned hotter.

Oh, how she would love to hurt him the way that he was hurting her!

"No wonder you've been in no hurry to have me," she said in a voice shaking with barely controlled anger. "You have her to give your attentions to!"

His green eyes darkened with anger.

"Bella, I will not have you speak to me that way. Nor are you to pretend jealousy over my actions with others. You have no say in that matter. You do not control me. If you can not remember your place, I will be glad to remind you of it."

"Don't you dare threaten me!" she screamed, completely out of control, a mere puppet to her fury and jealousy now. She turned away from him, meaning to storm from the room, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards him.

"Let me go!" she cried, trying to jerk away.

But he wouldn't. He continued to grip her tightly.

"No," he replied.

Unexpectedly, she reached out and slapped him across his face. Hard. The smack echoed around the room. She could already see the imprint of her hand slowly beginning to glow red on his perfect cheek.

Somehow, the action snapped her out of her unreasonable anger. Or perhaps it was the crisp sound of impact, like a twig snapping in a quiet forest. Or maybe (and probably most likely) it was the realization that now she had truly gone too far and would be severely punished.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," she said. Her dark eyes wide, fearful. She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Please forgive me."

Edward did not answer her. She had never seen him look so angry, or so grim. His grip on her arm tightened and he dragged her over to the bed where he sat down. Immediately, unceremoniously, he turned her across his knee and began to spank her. Very, very hard.

There was no warming up. No gradual increase in severity. Instead, this was immediately painful, so much so that she began to kick her feet uselessly against the floor and twist her bottom trying to avoid the swats.

"Please," she begged. "Please stop! I won't do it again. I swear I won't!"

"I know you won't," he responded calmly.

The tempo never let up, never paused or slowed. Again and again he spanked her, leaving angry red splotches across her buttocks.

"I mean, I mean I-I'm sorry," she cried as tears ran down her face.

"You certainly will be, by the time I'm through with you," he grimly replied.

Finally, she gave up pleading, knowing that it would be no use. Nothing she said would change his mind. She lay across his lap, crying at the indignity of it, fuming silently at both Edward and Victoria, and then finally even at herself for losing her temper the way she had.

After a few more swats, the spanking paused, leaving the room now silent but for the sound of Bella's sobbing breaths. She felt him lean forward and heard the sound of the opening of the bedside table's drawer. Quickly looking over her shoulder, she found her worst fears realized. He now held a wooden paddle, much like the one he had used on her before.

"No, please," she cried. "Not the paddle."

"Yes, the paddle," he said, almost sounding amused now. "And this time, you will count each blow I give you and you will thank me for it," he instructed her.

"You expect me to thank you for it?" she asked, incredulously.

"That's right," he replied. "We will start off with five. If you forget to count or do not thank me after each one, we will start back over at one. Do you understand?"

There was only a brief moment of silence before she answered, "Yes, sir," in a small voice.

She lowered her head and waited for the next phase of her punishment to begin.

She didn't have long to wait. With a loud _smack!_ the paddle made contact with her already reddened left cheek, forcing a yelp of pain from her and then a hasty, "One. Thank you, sir."

_Smack!_

"Two. Thank you, sir," she sobbed.

_Smack!_

"Three! Thank you, sir!"

She began to squirm on his lap, twisting in a useless effort to avoid the brunt of the blows, prompting him to tighten his hold on her.

_Smack!_

"OW! FOUR! THANK YOU, SIR!"

Finally, mercifully, the final blow fell.

_Smack!_

"Five!" she gasped. "Thank you, sir!"

And it was over. There was silence in the room again, but for the sound of Bella crying softly, lying across his lap. The bed shifted as he leaned forward to return the paddle to its drawer and then she felt his long, cool fingers brushing across her inflamed flesh, stroking softly on each reddened mound. Gradually, Bella's sobs died away, replaced by low moans of pleasure as his fingers continued to massage her, sliding closer and closer to the warm, wet slit between her legs.

With a jolt of surprise, she realized that her bottom was not the only thing that had become inflamed during her punishment. Despite how much her bottom hurt, despite the pain of the spanking, she was incredibly aroused. The humiliation and anger she'd felt at the time had only increased the heat between her legs. She could feel the warm, sticky wetness pooling between her lips.

_Oh, my God,_ she thought. _I must be depraved. Who could like something like this?_

But then all thoughts stopped as his fingers very softly stroked the down covering her lower lips.

_Oh, so close!_

She groaned and lifted her bottom slightly, offering more of herself to him.

"Do you still want me to fuck you, Bella?" he asked in a teasing voice, still just stroking her slit, refusing to actually enter her.

"Yes," she choked out, pressing her upraised bottom against his hand as if to force him to take possession of it.

"Well, maybe I will," he informed her coolly, "if you ask nicely."

"Ask nicely?" she sounded almost confused.

"Yes. Ask. Say, "Edward, will you please fuck me" and then I might consider it."

He was mocking her. She realized that. This was just another part of his game. And she didn't care.

"Edward-" she began, but he cut her off.

"No, wait," he said, pulling her from his lap and instructing her to kneel between his legs. "Now ask me. Ask me very nicely and I just might give you what you want."

She knelt on the floor, looking up into his magnificent face, moved by a desire that was almost too great for her body to contain.

"Edward, will you please fuck me?" she asked, looking up with large, pleading eyes.

He studied her naked form, seeming almost undecided.

Before he could answer, she bent forward, pressing her lips against the hard leather of his shoe, and then whispered once again, "Please?"

She heard his quick intake of breath.

"Get up, Bella," he ordered roughly, his voice fraught with great tension. "Get on the bed."

She moved quickly to comply, lying back on the downy soft covers, marveling at the exquisite silky touch. Its coldness felt good against the heat of her backside. From the bed, she watched as Edward shrugged off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of his pants and underwear.

Once completely naked, he joined her on the bed, lying carefully on top of her, with his weight resting on his arms. And then finally he kissed her again, carefully at first, slowly, but then more urgently as she returned his kisses with equal passion. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she rocked against him, pressing the length of him against her core. She moaned into his mouth, twisting her fingers into his hair and holding his face tightly in place, causing him to nearly lose all control.

"Now,"she said, "now."

He reached down to press the head of his penis against her tight opening, pushing forward gently. But though he wanted to enter her slowly, thinking it would hurt her less, Bella was impatient to feel him inside of her. She heaved her hips downward, trying to get it to slip inside. But as she did, and as it began to press forward, to gradually enter the silky heat of her pussy, a terrible pain began to grow.

"Ow!" she protested. "You're hurting me, Edward!"

"I know," he replied, his voice deep and husky. "I'm sorry, Bella. It does hurt the first time."

He pressed his mouth against hers, kissing her deeply as his hand slipped down to grasp her hip, lifting her up so he could more easily enter. She could feel his body tremble with the effort of his control as he very slowly pushed himself inside, thrusting back and forth.

"Ow," Bella moaned again as, with a last, hard thrust, he was was completely inside.

He paused a moment, giving her a chance to adjust. His breathing was already coming out in deep, heavy pants, and she could tell it was torturing him to remain still when all he wanted was to move hard and fast inside her. Bella lifted her hips against him, softly pushing back and forth, encouraging him to press his own hips back, wanting to finally feel him moving deep within her.

And then finally, with a sound like a moan and a sigh, he did begin to move, rocking back and forth, thrusting softly at first, but then harder and faster as his excitement grew. One of his hands buried itself in her hair, caressing her dark locks, while the other moved across her body, trailing the tips of his fingers across her hips and breasts and arms. All the while, his mouth left trails of kisses on her neck and face and lips.

"You feel so good," he said, his voice deep, tight with pleasure, and his breathing heavy.

She opened her eyes, wanting to see Edward's face as he took her, as he gasped with so much pleasure from the use of her. What she saw took her breath away, distracted her from the discomfort. Hovering over her was the face of an angel, with creamy skin flushed to a deep pink and a fine film of sweat covering his face and body. But what struck her most were his eyes. They were open and focused intently on her face, looking deeply into her own now opened eyes. And as she gazed into his eyes, she saw a world of color, green pools, twisting and streaking in blue and grey, swirling to their black centers. And there, deep within the swirling worlds of color, was the pleasure he felt. A pleasure so intense, it seemed to flash from him and carry her away with it. So that now, she began to feel it too. Softly, her hips began to move in time with his, thrusting back and forth, reveling in the aching ecstasy that was building up inside.

The pleasure was almost too much. She felt that she might break apart into a million little pieces, shattered like a silver mirror. Her eyes were closed again and all she could think about was him. Edward fucking her. Groaning and panting from the pleasure he felt from being inside of her.

Then it really was too much. Her orgasm exploded, the warm velvet of her vagina contracting hard around him as her head thrashed on the pillow and she cried out, "Oh, my God! I love you! I love you! I love you!"

His face twisted at her words and his hips began to thrust even harder as he came, groaning loudly as he finally ejaculated deep inside of her.

As he lay on top of her, still breathing hard, trying to recover, he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered one word. The word whipped through her like an autumn breeze through brown leaves.

That word was "no."

Much later, the two of them lay side by side in bed, both still naked.

"Of course, you don't love me," he told her again.

"No, of course I don't," she replied yet again, beginning to lose her patience. "I know that."

She met his eye, feeling her face flush under his close scrutiny. Was he feeling sorry for her, thinking she was a silly girl in love with him?

"I'm not in love with you, haven't I just told you that?" she insisted, hotly. "Honestly, it was just a slip of the tongue. I didn't even realize what I was saying. You know, I was...in the moment."

He studied her for a moment longer before saying, "Good."

A moment passed in silence and then he said softly, "You don't even know me. It simply isn't possible for you to be in love with me."

"And yet barely a moment passes between a newborn and its mother before they know they love one another," Bella whispered under her breath.

"What?" Edward asked, not catching her words.

"Nothing," she replied hastily. "Listen, will you please just forget about what I said? I honestly didn't mean to say that. It was an accident. We have discussed my feelings enough today. Remember? I think you know by now what they are. Now please, let me just curl up beside you for a moment and rest."

She snuggled against his side, her arm reaching out to wrap around him and her head nestled against his chest. She could hear his heart beating strong and steady, feel his chest rising with each breath. This felt very nice. Warm and safe.

After a moment, Edward slipped his arm around her, wrapping it around her waist, pulling her closer. Slowly, the two drifted off to sleep.

**Edward's POV**

Sometime deep within the night, Edward drifted in his sleep. And in his sleep, he wandered through a green world, lost in a summer forest. He heard a sound beside him, the crackling of a twig, and turned to see Bella drifting along beside him. Her smile as she looked up at him was radiant. And for just this once, as the setting of this familiar dream took shape, he was not afraid. They wandered together, holding hands, as the forest thinned, and as finally they stood in an open field. Beyond the field was the familiar face of a house, large and imposing, the windows all like eyes, staring blankly down at him as he stumbled closer and closer to it.

"It's alright," dream-Bella said, clutching his hand and pulling him forward. Her smile was encouraging.

He shook his head no, but allowed her to lead him closer towards the dark house. With every step forward, the fear grew stronger, soon blossoming into full-blown terror as the familiar rolls of black and grey smoke began to boil from the house, rolling out towards them like a speeding train.

_No!_ his mind screamed, but nothing came from his open mouth. He could only shake his head over and over again, mute with terror, unable to speak.

The dream shifted and then somehow they were standing on the front lawn, much too close to the burning house, enveloped now in its oppressive heat. The crackling and sizzling and distant screams filled his mind. His hands flew to his head as he began to sob soundlessly.

That was when he noticed that dream-Bella was no longer holding his hand. He turned to look into her face and found her eyes were now glowing red, dancing with the wild flames, and staring straight at him. The skin of her face had blackened and pulled back, revealing the bones within, and where once was her luscious red lips was now only teeth.

The yawning black hole of her mouth opened, letting out a voice that was deep and rough, dripping with accusation. "Edward, what have you done? You've killed them!" The voice ended in the high keening wail of an animal in pain.

_No, I didn't! I didn't!_ Edward's mind protested.

But he couldn't speak, though his mouth was opened wide and his body shook with the effort of trying to force the words from his mouth.

With one final effort, he found his voice, finally coming awake screaming, "NO!"

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**Cross my heart.**


	14. Night Noise

**WARNING: THIS IS A DARK ****_FANTASY_****. IT IS NOT ABOUT THE BDSM COMMUNITY OR HOW TO PRACTICE SAFE, SANE AND CONSENSUAL BDSM (WHICH YOU SHOULD). IT'S MEANT TO GET YOU HORNY, NOT INFORM YOU. IF THIS KIND OF FANTASY DOESN'T EXCITE YOU, PLEASE DON'T READ.**

Bella stood at the window, staring down into the back garden, much as she had done so many hours before. But this time she stood, not in her own room, but in Edward's. And it was not the middle of the day. It was midnight. The Witching Hour.

A shiver crept over her as she thought those words. At the moment, they seemed particularly apt. She was still shaken by Edward's terrified screams, torn from him by some terrible nightmare. One from which he couldn't seem to awaken, though she called his name and shook him frantically. When he finally did wake up, his body was clammy, covered in sweat, and shaking. For one terrible moment, he had stared at her, eyes wild with terror as though she herself were an apparition or a demon, some terrible part of the nightmare that had followed him from the dream.

"Edward," she said soothingly, reaching out to him. But when she tried to hold him, he tore his body away from hers and looked into her face, eyes wide and watchful, as though waiting for something horrible to happen.

"What is it?" she asked him. Her eyes held his for a moment longer, silently willing him to calm down.

Finally his breath came out in a loud sigh and the tension left his body. "Nothing," he replied. "Just a nightmare."

And this time, when she reached out for him, he allowed her to hold him. He pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his hand brushing across her hair and face, over and over again. Slowly, his heartbeat slowed down, his breathing returned to normal. She thought that he might send her back to her room, now that he realized that she was still there, but he never did. He continued to hold her tightly, never speaking, never confiding the details of his dream. She left him to his silence, thinking he might be ashamed of his fear. Eventually, he fell back into a deep sleep.

Bella, however, had been unable to return to sleep. Seeing him as he had been, terrified beyond speech, had left her shaken. What was Edward so afraid of? What could shake the normally cool, unflappable Edward Cullen? What was the stuff of his nightmares?

As she lay awake pondering these things, she suddenly heard a noise outside.

_Bump!_

It sounded as though someone had gone into the garden shed and was moving around. Quiet as a mouse, she rolled from the bed, walking stealthily to the window. She stood at the gap between the parted curtains, peering down onto the lawn.

In truth, she had not expected to see anything. She thought it would be just a figment of her imagination, as perhaps it had been before. But this time there _was_ someone to see. Her heart began to thud in her chest and she moved back, hiding herself behind the curtains, as she watched the figure moving in the moonlight. It was a large man, tall and broad. As a cloud moved away from the moon, the light shone fully on his face and she realized with surprise that it was only Emmett.

_But what is he doing down there at this time of night?_ she wondered.

She watched in silence as he walked across the lawn, heading straight to the rose garden. There he sat on the bench, as still and dark as any of the shadows, and just as silent. He did nothing. He said nothing. For several moments, he sat with his head lowered, as if in prayer. And then finally he stood up. In his hand was a pair of pruning shears which he used to clip a flower from a rose bush. He bent over the bloom, inhaling deeply, brushing the petals across his face. Then he turned, looking up at the house, his eyes going straight to Edward's window. As he stood there on the lawn, clutching the small bloom, a look of such malice twisted his handsome features that Bella gasped, retreating further into the shadows.

_Had he seen her?_

She peeked back out the window. She didn't think that he had. She watched as he moved resolutely across the lawn, making his way towards the house. A moment later, she heard the sound of a door softly closing downstairs.

Bella looked over at Edward. He was still sleeping soundly, breathing deeply, evenly. For just a moment, she thought about waking him and telling him about Emmett's strange behavior, but she knew if she did, he would just dismiss it. And she desperately wanted to go downstairs and find out what Emmett was doing.

Curiousity gnawed at her as she stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, wondering what she should do. In reality, though, there was never any doubt about what her course of action would be. She quickly grabbed Edward's big, blue robe and threw it on, then quietly left the room. Within moments, without ever making a sound, she was standing at the bottom of the staircase in the entry way, casting around for a sound, a clue as to where Emmett might have gone. The clue came quickly.

There was a sound of murmuring voices coming from the direction of the drawing room. She turned in that direction, following the sound. Very softly, she approached the room, peering around the corner to see who was speaking. It was Victoria and Emmett. As carefully as she could, Bella moved further into the room, hiding behind a very large piece of furniture. From this vantage point, she could see and hear everything that passed between the two of them.

"Exactly as I thought," said Victoria to Emmett. "Skulking around the house."

Emmett was completely unabashed.

"As I recall, you've done quite a bit of 'skulking' yourself," he countered.

She looked away from him for a moment, seeming lost in thought, before turning her eyes back to his.

"Things have changed," she said simply.

"For you perhaps, but not for me. Nothing has changed for me," he said roughly.

Victoria's eyes turned sharp. "And why not for you?" she asked in a hard, suspicious voice. "If the plan has changed for the Master, why wouldn't it change for you as well?"

"Well, now maybe, just maybe," he said slowly, walking towards her, "you shouldn't concern yourself with these things." He stood directly in front of her, towering a full head above her. Victoria did not seem to be intimidated. She returned his hard gaze impassively. "Perhaps you should take care of the things you are here to take care of and not concern yourself with my business."

And with those words, he reached out and roughly grabbed her breast. She jerked away from him, slapping his hand away.

"I do not serve you. I am only here for Mr. Cullen's pleasure."

Casually, almost lazily, Emmett slapped Victoria hard across the face, causing the tall woman to stagger backwards. Both Bella and Victoria drew in a sharp breath at this, the latter grabbing her face where the blow had fallen. She watched Emmett, her face held away from him in an odd manner, clearly expecting there to be another blow. There wasn't one for the moment. However, the words he said next seemed to hurt worse than any blow he could have given.

"But Mr. Cullen takes no pleasure from you, does he? He hasn't laid a finger on you since Bella entered this house." He smiled coldly, unmoved by her look of pain. "He doesn't want you, Victoria, and he never will. You are nothing but his servant, not even good enough to be his slut, now." He eyed her body, focusing on her breasts and hips. "Still, you must be put to some use. I'm sure Edward will thank me one day, after Bella is gone and he has a use for you again."

With those words, he ripped open her shirt and grabbed her breasts, roughly twisting and squeezing her nipples. The movement was unexpected, so sudden that Victoria didn't have the chance to prepare for the pain. Her face blanched and she made a sound, like a cross between a cry and a groan, as with an effort she stifled her cry. Soon, she stood impassive again, doing nothing to stop Emmett's abuse of her.

Her lack of response seemed to enrage him. He grabbed her hair and dragged her by it to the couch, ignoring her gasps of pain, quickly turning her across the arm of the furniture and lifting her skirt. She was nude beneath.

He chuckled and said, "Always ready, aren't you?" as he unbuttoned his pants.

With shock, Bella saw Emmett lower his britches, exposing his large, erect penis. Victoria showed no protest as he pressed himself against the opening of her vagina, shoving himself roughly inside of her. From her hiding place, Bella watched as Emmett thrust back and forth into Victoria, her hair still held tightly in his hand. He seemed to take cruel delight in yanking her head back, pulling the hair with such force that Bella would not have been surprised if some had come out in his hand. And through it all, Victoria never made a sound, other than an occasional quick intake of breath.

Then with a few deep thrusts and a loud moan, Emmett was through. He pulled out of her and straightened his clothes, watching the woman as she remained slumped over the arm of the couch.

"Get up, Victoria," he said harshly. "Get out of here. And let this be a reminder to you. Keep your nose out of my personal business and keep your mouth shut."

Victoria stood up, straightening the shreds of her shirt and smoothing down her skirt. Nothing in her face or manner betrayed her feelings about the brutal assault she had just experienced. However, as she walked away she paused and turned again to face Emmett. Her words were calm, unemotional. "You can do with me what you want, Emmett. But you would be wise to leave Miss Swan alone. Stay out of her apartment. I believe," she broke off for just a moment, as though to collect her thoughts, "I believe, if pressed too hard, Mr. Cullen would probably choose her over either one of us. Tread carefully, or we will all find ourselves in a world of trouble."

He only smiled at her words and said, "Don't worry about my brother. I can handle him."

"Not anymore," she muttered as she left the room, passing near the spot where Bella hid.

**Yes, I know. What a shock, huh? **

**Thanks for reading.**

**Into the Grey House has been nominated for an Indie Twific award! Please be sure to go over there and vote. It is nominated in the Best Undiscovered Erotica and Best All-Human categories.**

**Thanks again for the nomination!**


	15. Looking Glass

**This chapter contains D/s and lemons. Please don't read if you don't like that kind of thing.**

**BPOV**

Bella remained hidden until Emmett left the house. The moment she heard the back door close, she crept from her hiding place and raced back up the stairs, into Edward's room. Once there, she took off his robe and jumped into bed, snuggling against his back, closer and closer, as if to push herself into him. He stirred in his sleep and rolled over, placing an arm around her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, groggily.

"Nothing," she replied.

She lay awake, unable to sleep, for most of the night. Unable to stop thinking about what she had just seen and heard.

Had Emmett really abused Victoria the way she thought he had? One part of her thought so, but the other part wondered if it was just another part of their sick games. They were all so strange, their lusts so alien.

_Well, perhaps not as alien as she would once have believed,_ she realized. _But still..._

And Emmett! Sweet, friendly Emmett. She could hardly believe her own memories. Had he really struck Victoria? Treated her so viciously? But this she knew was true, for she had witnessed it with her own eyes. Though she may not wish to believe it, the proof was certain.

And in truth, now that she had time to reflect upon it, she found it easy to believe. She remembered the cold look in his eyes when he had caught her by the fence, the day she'd tried to leave. He had been almost without feeling, the only emotion shown was cold anger. She also remembered the lust that had come into his eyes and on his face when she had been so harshly punished. Not to mention his very evident erection. At the time, she'd thought it was due only to her exposed bottom, but perhaps there was something more to his reaction. Perhaps he was truly aroused by being the instrument of her torment, the reason for her punishment and humiliation. She shivered at the thought.

What exactly was Emmett capable of?

She reflected on the words she'd heard pass between Victoria and Emmett, particularly those which concerned herself. "Stay out of Miss Swan's apartment." Did this mean that Emmett had been in her rooms before or did Victoria believe that he planned to go into them in the future? She wondered. There had been that one night, when she'd heard what sounded like voices in her apartment. Perhaps there had never been an intruder at all, nor had it been only her imagination. Perhaps Emmett had been in her apartment that night, planning who knew what. And Victoria? Had she been there as well? It was very possible, from everything she'd heard them say.

The real question was whether or not she should speak with Edward about her fears?

She looked over at him and watched him as he slept. His face was relaxed, vulnerable as it never was when he was awake. What would he do if she spoke with him about what she'd witnessed that night?

First of all, of course, he would be angry. Very angry, indeed. She should not have been up, wandering the home at night in such a manner. She was certain of this. But worst of all, she was certain that he would not believe her. He would dismiss it all, excuse every word or action, most especially that of Emmett. Hadn't she witnessed his devotion to Emmett over and over again, in a hundred different ways? Now, of course, it made much more sense to her, as she understood that they were brothers. That sort of brotherly devotion would be difficult to challenge, no matter what Victoria had said to the contrary.

"He would choose her over either one of us." Those had been her words.

Bella glowed for just a moment as she considered that it might be true. Perhaps he really did care for her in the same deep way that she cared for him. Perhaps he put her above all others.

She studied him, looking for proof to support this assumption. But she saw nothing other than his quiet perfection, the sweep of his lashes against his cheeks, the curve of his red lips. He gave nothing away. Nothing to satisfy or risk an action upon.

No. She'd have to believe what he had told her before. He did care for her...in his own way. Risking an accusation against a beloved brother was not a happy proposition for her. She did not wish to anger Edward or drive him further away. Instead, she decided to be on her guard, aware now of the threat which Emmett presented for her.

Sometime before morning, Bella must have fallen asleep. When she opened her eyes, the morning sun had risen and she was alone in Edward's bed. She was a bit disappointed to find him gone, but not surprised. He had always been an early riser, always arriving at the breakfast table before she did.

_Still, it would have been nice to have had a morning kiss,_ she thought.

She swung her legs onto the floor and stood up, stretching and yawning, casting her eye around for Edward's blue robe. Once she found where she had thrown it the night before, she put it on and then went to her room.

She ran a tub of hot water and lay soaking for a very long time, her thoughts chasing round and round, but always coming back to the same thing. What was she going to do about Edward?

She loved him. That was a fact. But could she ever tell him the true extent of her feelings? Intuition told her no, to keep this to herself. That he would only send her away that much sooner if he knew how she truly felt. She realized in one of her sudden flashes of intuition that something about love bothered him. Actually, something about _all _emotional entanglements bothered him. She realized that it seemed like he was always fighting his own emotions. Always, he fought to control himself, to present a cool, unemotional face to her and, she supposed, to the rest of the world. But why?

And what about what Victoria had said last night? If it was true that he cared for her, why would he keep his feelings to himself? It just didn't make sense. No, Victoria had to have been mistaken in this.

There was, however, one thing that she now knew for certain. She would never marry Mike, no matter what. It wouldn't be fair to him. He deserved the chance to find a woman who would truly love him, not one who would be forever pining for another man. Although it was bound to be unpleasant, she would need to write to him soon and request a visit from him. She wanted to tell him these things face to face, not through a letter.

She lay thinking of these things, lazily washing her hair and soaping her body then rinsing off and getting out of the tub. She had laid a large, fluffy, white towel beside the tub and quickly used this to dry her hair and body, rubbing herself until her skin glowed pink, before wrapping it around herself and leaving the bathroom. So preoccupied was she still with worries about Edward, Mike, and Emmett, that at first she did not notice the man sitting on her couch. Not until she looked up and saw him sitting silently, watching her.

"Aaarrrggghhh!" Bella screamed, nearly jumping out of her skin.

Her reaction deeply amused Edward, who was the man sitting on the couch. He threw his head back and laughed heartily, but seeing her look of annoyance and realizing that she had truly been frightened, he quickly went to her and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, Bella," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"But how did you get into the room?" she asked, still upset with him for the fright he had given her. "I had locked the door!"

He said nothing at first, then pulled away to look down into her face, his expression serious. "Bella, who do you belong to?" he asked.

"To you, of course," she replied without hesitation.

"Then why would you wish to lock me out?"

She dropped her eyes from his and bit her lip. How was she to answer this? Tell him that she was afraid of Emmett and that was why she had locked the door? No.

"I'm still afraid of intruders breaking into the house," she replied. And that was not entirely a lie. She _was _afraid of intruders.

At her words, his face relaxed and an understanding smile touched his face. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Bella. This home is very secure. I have taken numerous measures to ensure just that, to keep us all safe." Here he paused and looked away from her. His face had a look that was at once reflective and also somehow sad, but that look quickly passed as he smoothed his expression. "Or at least as safe as is possible, I should say." He looked back at her and touched her face, cupping her warm cheeks.

His touch confused her, as it always did. She completely lost her train of thoughts, all arguments left her. It was with a great effort that she remembered what was really bothering her.

"But how did you get in?" she demanded again. "Do you have a key to my room?"

"Of course I do," he replied smoothly. "Why wouldn't I?"

"But..." she began to protest. Surely she should have some measure of privacy?

"Bella, I am the master of this house, aren't I?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Then why shouldn't I have access to every part of this house?"

"I suppose you're right," she replied. In truth she was very much distracted at that point, as Edward had begun to feather kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Her breathing became loud, panting. She realized with embarrassment that she was already getting excited, already wet for him.

"Of course I'm right," he agreed. His hand reached for her towel, taking it from her reluctant hands and letting it fall to the ground.

Despite being unclothed in front of Edward before, she still found herself becoming embarrassed by her exposure, something Edward evidently noticed. His bright green eyes swept over her face and then across her body, lingering at the dark patch of curls between her legs.

"I wonder sometimes if you are simply unaware of how beautiful you really are," he said.

She blushed deeply at his words. "I'm not beautiful, Edward," she said firmly. "You are."

"I am?" he quizzed, raising an eyebrow. "Beautiful? Odd choice of words for a man, don't you think? Perhaps you mean handsome? Or rugged?" Once again, he was teasing her.

"Use whatever word you wish," she retorted. "Handsome. Beautiful. Angelic. It's all the same."

His hands cupped her breasts, lifting the weight of them. He bent his head and captured one hard tip of her breast, licking and sucking the nipple, teasing it with his teeth, until it was almost painfully erect. She moaned softly.

"You have a ridiculous opinion of me," he stated, releasing her nipple, and straightening up to look at her face again.

She only shrugged, breathless. What could she say to that? She had only told him the truth. Anyone could see he was beautiful. What was the use of denying it?

He studied her for a moment longer, a devious glint coming into his eye. It was a look that made her nervous.

"Go over to that dresser, Bella," - he indicated a little, cream colored dresser that was topped with a round mirror- "and bend over, resting your hands and arms on the top of it, your face directly over your hands."

She did not like this at all. In this position, she was forced to look at herself, the mirror being directly before her eyes. Edward considered her for a moment, looking at the dark furrow between her thighs and the few marks left from the punishment he had given her the night before. He took off his jacket and loosened his tie. Finally, he came to stand behind her.

"Bella, during your stay in this house, you will be taught many things," he told her. "How to give pleasure is perhaps the most important thing that you will learn, although some would probably argue that obedience is of greater importance." He paused again, reflecting on these things. "I believe a lesson regarding both of these things is in order."

His hand caressed her back, tracing the length of her spine to the cleft of her buttocks. He raised his hand to her mouth and ordered her to wet his finger. She licked and sucked his finger, getting it as wet as she could.

When he was satisfied, he placed his finger between her ass cheeks, seeking out the rosebud of her tight back hole. She drew her breath in with a gasp as she tensed.

_No! He couldn't!_

But he was. This was to be his first test in obedience. Would she try to fight him or passively allow him to do with her body whatever he wished? She quivered with the strain of holding perfectly still when her every impulse was to jump away from him.

Slowly, his finger entered, forcing its way inside. She closed her eyes, not wishing to see herself or him in the mirror. This earned her an immediate slap on the ass.

"Keep your eyes open, Bella," Edward said harshly.

She immediately opened her eyes again, but didn't know where to look. Directly in front of her, the image of her face confronted her. And also in the mirror, beyond her face, she could see Edward, his eyes focused on her rear end, his hand working methodically back and forth, slowly forcing his finger inside. Finally, the finger had entered her as deeply as it could and he began to slowly fuck her ass with just his finger. The reflection in the mirror plainly showed his arousal as evidenced by the lust that now shone on his face and in his eyes. It also showed her own painful embarrassment.

He pulled his finger out and then immediately began to shove it back in, but this time, it was much more painful. In disbelief, she realized that he was now trying to force two fingers into her tight back hole.

"Ow," she moaned. "Edward, it hurts."

"Try to relax, Bella. This is something you will need to become accustomed to. You have such a lovely ass. Believe me, I plan to use it quite often."

He caught her look of fear and disgust in the mirror and then smiled at her before saying, "Do you still think I'm beautiful? Or angelic?" His voice and eyes were mocking. Just then he managed to shove the two fingers into her backside and began to fuck her rhythmically with them.

Bella moaned, partly in pain, but also partly (and most surprisingly) in the pleasure that was beginning to replace her discomfort.

"Yes, I do," she managed to groan. "You are beautiful."

She saw one of his hands move to the button of his pants and undo them, pushing them down to reveal his erection. He immediately grasped his penis and placed it against the entrance of her vagina.

"You're wet," he told her, meeting her eyes in the mirror, before pressing forward brutally, entering her in one hard thrust.

"Aaahhhh..." she moaned. He felt so good inside of her! She began to press her hips back and forth, meeting his thrusts, becoming wetter and warmer with each motion. And the fingers he had buried in her butt began to thrust into her harder, bringing back a feeling of discomfort that was also somehow, inexplicably, pleasurable. She moaned louder and curved her back downward, bringing her hips up to him, opening her ass further for him.

"I can feel how excited you are," Edward said between panting breaths. "You're going to come any second now, aren't you? With my cock in you and my fingers buried in your ass. You're such a dirty little slut!"

His words only made her moan louder. Her orgasm was coming on fast and hard. She wanted it so bad, she began to shake, her eyes fixed on his thrusting hips and torso, watching as he took her, as he used her in whatever way he wanted. And that was all she wanted. She wanted to always belong to him, to always be his possession, something he could have at any time he desired.

She felt the tightening and tingling begin and knew that she was about to come, but even as she felt the inevitability of her coming orgasm, she felt the words "I love you" begin to bubble up in her chest.

_No, not again!_

She fought desperately to keep the words from escaping her lips. She shook her head and tensed her body, trying to fight the orgasm in an effort to control her words. But then Edward began to thrust into her in short, hard thrusts, hitting the same delicious spot over and over again, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself.

"Oh, no," she cried out. "Oh, no. Oh, oh, oh! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!" Her final words ended in a sob as she felt the crushing regret of having said those words again.

Her eyes moved up to Edward's face, watching as his face twisted with his own deep pleasure. She felt his penis throb and twitch inside of her with the force of his own orgasm. With a final thrust, he was done. He removed his fingers and his penis, quickly pulling up his pants. Without a single word to her, he picked up his jacket and went into her bathroom. She heard the sound of running water. A moment later he emerged, looking composed, hair neatened. The only clue to his internal emotions was the vein throbbing in his forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," she said softly.

He said nothing in reply. He walked past her to the door and clutched the door knob. Then he paused, his rigid posture loosening just a little, his head drooping in a way that looked almost dejected in Bella's eyes.

"What am I going to do about you, Bella?" he whispered, his voice betraying a deep distress.

"Edward..." she began, moving towards him. But with a jerk he opened the door and left the room.

**Thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed the story.**

**Please review.**

**Don't forget to vote for Into The Grey House at the Indie Twific Awards. It's nominated for Best Undiscovered Erotica and Best Alternate Universe, All Human.**


	16. Smoke Screen

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Bella was preoccupied by her own thoughts and Edward appeared to be the same. Certainly, he did not speak much. His greeting when she'd entered the room had been a trifle distant, though not brusque. He seemed distracted. From time to time, she would look over at him to find his eyes on her face, his expression serious. Each time this happened, she thought he wished to tell her something, or so his expression would seem to suggest. But he never did. Instead, he would hastily return his attention to his breakfast or would resume reading his morning newspaper, keeping his thoughts to himself.

But she could easily guess what his thoughts were. No doubt, they were the same as her own. And what her own thoughts kept returning to was her foolish behavior of that morning and the night before. The way she had blurted out "I love you" despite her best intentions to keep this to herself.

Hadn't she always known his feelings on this matter? He had made it very clear that he did not wish for that type of entanglement with her. And yet at the moment of her greatest pleasure, she had lost all control, not once but twice. Twice she had blurted out her deepest feelings. And twice he had rebuffed her. That was the painful truth. He had not returned the sentiment, would not even acknowledge it the second time, and was clearly bothered by it.

At first, she was merely hurt by this, as anyone would be whose deepest affections were not returned. And chasing close upon the heels of this hurt was embarrassment, knowing that he must now think of her as a foolish, love-sick woman. Someone too ordinary to be truly loved by someone such as himself. An object to be pitied, no doubt. But thinking of herself as the object of his pity only served to anger her. Not with herself but with him. She didn't want his pity, she wanted his love. If he could not give that to her, she would have liked at least to keep the comfort of her pride intact.

Angry tears stung her eyes, but she hastily blinked them away, feeling that her anger was unfair. He had never made her any promises and he was not obliged to love her back. Besides, she was very aware of the truth of her appearance and her insignificance. She was completely and utterly ordinary. On the other hand, he most definitely was not. He was the very opposite of ordinary. Someone like him was never meant to be with someone like her.

Why couldn't she just control her words?

She sighed and looked up into a pair of thoughtful green eyes. They were not Edward's eyes this time. They belonged to Victoria, who was standing at her elbow with a pot of coffee in her hands.

"Would you like more coffee?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you," Bella replied. The question surprised her. Usually, the housekeeper served her in complete silence, never asking her opinion on any matter.

After she poured the coffee, she turned away, offering the pot to Edward, who also accepted a refill. As Victoria poured the coffee into Edward's cup, Bella could not help but run her eyes over the woman's face, looking for some sign of the blow Emmett had given her the night before. The dark mark, like a line across her cheek, was not very difficult to find.

Bella stared at it, thinking again of what she had witnessed between Emmett and Victoria, and wondering at the nature of it.

As if she could feel her eyes on her face, Victoria turned to look at her. Something in the expression on Bella's face seemed to unsettle the housekeeper, whose eyes immediately narrowed and became hostile again.

"Is there anything else I can get you, _ma'm_?" she asked, turning her final word into a sneer.

"No, thank you" Bella replied, quickly looking away.

She waited until Victoria left the room, and then she turned to speak with Edward. Something had been on her mind since the evening before, since she had overheard the conversation between Emmett and Victoria, and she wished to discuss it with him.

"I was surprised to learn that Emmett is your brother," she began, tentatively. "You've never mentioned it before."

He looked at her with some surprise. "Who told you he was my brother?"

_Oops_! She hadn't thought of that.

"No one," she admitted, thinking fast. "I overheard Emmett and Victoria speaking not too long ago. He referred to you as his brother."

_There. That was not a lie_.

"Oh, of course," he said, satisfied with her answer. "Well, yes. Emmett is my brother, in my mind as well as in his, though we have different parents. We grew up together, in the same small town, not very far from here. When we were younger, we were inseparable. Best friends." He paused for just a second, his forehead creasing as he gathered his thoughts. "My parents and I had always been like a second family to him. So it was only natural, when his parents died suddenly, that my own parents offered to take him in and raise him as their own. He became the brother that I never had."

"Both of his parents died unexpectedly?" Bella gasped. "How terrible!" She knew exactly how painful this was, having lost both of her own parents.

"Yes," Edward agreed, his face becoming even more set and grim than usual. "It was a terrible tragedy. They were a well-loved couple. The entire town was devastated by their loss. And of course Emmett, their only child, was as well. He was inconsolable."

He stopped speaking and cleared his throat and for just a second, Bella thought that he might actually be close to tears. But then the moment passed and he was no different than he ever was, leaving her to believe she had only imagined the look of grief that had crossed his face.

"How old was he when this happened?" she wondered.

"Thirteen," Edward replied.

He didn't volunteer any further information and curiousity finally compelled her to ask, "How did they die?"

For a long moment, he said nothing, his eyes were cast down on the table in front of him, but unfocused, as if thinking of something very distant.

Finally, he looked up and replied, "They died in a house fire." His words came out slowly, as though he were reluctant to even speak them, as though he were imparting knowledge of a secret, dark nature. Knowledge that might have a power and a danger all their own, if once known. "While they slept. Perhaps they never even knew what happened to them." His final words were murmured more to himself than to her.

"Oh, how awful!" she exclaimed.

Edward said nothing. She noticed that he seemed to have turned slightly pale and that a thin layer of sweat had broken out on his forehead. It occured to her that he almost appeared to be sick, but just as she was about to ask him if he felt ill, he cleared his throat and suggested that, if she had finished her breakfast, she should go to her office and begin her workday, as she was already running late.

His words brought back the memory of what had occured between them that morning and caused her face to flush pink with a return of her embarrassment. She stood up quickly, dropping her cup into its saucer with a loud clatter.

"Yes, of course," she said in what she hoped was a normal voice. "I was supposed to have called Mr. Gacy first thing this morning about the Devonshire event. If you'll excuse me, I'll go make the call right now."

So saying, she swept past him, hurrying to her office.

Edward sat in his office later that morning, though he was not actually working. He was just sitting at his desk, staring at the rose petal that he held between his finger and his thumb. It was a beautiful petal. Satiny and soft. And though it was a deep, blood red, nothing about it should have caused the look of unease that had come across Edward's face when he first spotted it on his desk. Nor should it have caused the continued look of worry that had now settled onto his features.

But he _was _worried.

_Why had Emmett come into my office?_ he wondered, for he knew without any need for confirmation that it had been Emmett who had dropped the petal on his desk. It was unusual. Not forbidden. Simply unusual. There was nothing in there that concerned him, nothing that pertained to his work. So why?

As he sat staring at the rose petal, he reached what seemed to be the only logical conclusion. That Emmett had come into his office, searching for information about Rosalie.

He had come to Edward before, asking for information about how to contact Rosalie. In the past, he had told him that he no longer had any information about her. That he had thrown away her phone number and address after she had run away. He thought that Emmett believed him at the time. Yet it had been around that time that he had found the first rose petal on his desk. A petal obviously dropped sometime during the previous night. He knew then with the same absolute certainty that he had now that it had been Emmett who had dropped the petal. The conclusion had been an easy one to come to, as at the time he had been busy planting the rose bushes in what would become the home's rose garden.

Perhaps Emmett realized that Edward had lied to him - for that was exactly what he had done. Edward did know how to contact Rosalie, but he did not wish to pass this information on to Emmett. He did not feel it was his place to do so. If Rosalie had wished for him to contact her, surely she would have given him her information before she had left. As she had not, Edward had no choice but to conclude that she did not wish to hear from him. And he had to agree with her. It would certainly be awkward for her to explain.

Her number - as well as that of every other woman who had come into his life - was in his leather address book, locked in his desk drawer. He stared at the drawer for a long time, again very deep in thought, feeling the weight of an enormous decision bearing down on him.

If he were to do the thing he contemplated, what would be the consequences? _Not very favorable_, he concluded.

And if he did nothing, what then? _Still not very favorable._

_Fuck my life!_ he thought bitterly. _What difference will it make if I tell Bella the truth, if it only results in her hating me? And worst of all, if it results in Emmett and Victoria and I going to prison? _

But even as he thought these things, he considered the alternative and felt his guilt stab at him. _But what if she no longer loves Mike Newton? What if she truly does love me instead? _

It was difficult for him to believe that someone so lovely, so pure, and so _good_ would actually be in love with him, and yet that was the conclusion he was slowly coming to accept. And IF that was true, she would not wish to submit to Mr. Newton as his wife. That arrangement would be truly repugnant to her.

_Damn it! What am I supposed to do?_

Slowly, he withdrew a set of keys from his pocket and fitted one into the lock in his desk. He opened the drawer and drew out his address book.

_I could call and speak with her,_ he thought. _That wouldn't hurt anything. After all, I won't tell Emmett about this. He'll never know I spoke with her. Just a quick conversation to find out what she has been told about it and what she has to say_.

He dialed her number quickly, before he could change his mind, and waited through several rings before someone picked up.

"Hello?" a strange woman's voice said on the other end.

"Hello. May I speak with Rosalie?" Edward asked.

"Rosalie?" she returned sharply. "Who is this?"

"My name is Edward Cullen. I'm her friend."

"Mr. Cullen, huh? Well, Mr. Cullen, I am Rosalie's mother and I haven't seen her for nearly two years. Haven't heard from her, either. None of us have."

"What?" he said, taken completely by surprise. "But where is she?"

"The last time I talked with my daughter, she was on her way to spend some time with a wealthy man up in Chicago. I told her not to go. Her daddy had a nice young man set up for her. His boss' son was sweet on her and that would have been a good match. But Rose is headstrong and determined to do things her own way. She left and I haven't heard a word from her since."

"Oh," he said. His mind was reeling. There was a moment of awkward silence and then he murmured, "Thank you for your time."

He hung up the phone and sat staring at it for a very long time.

Rosalie was gone.

But where could she be? And what did this mean for all of them?

**Thanks for reading. Remember to leave a review, comment, or ask a question. I like hearing from you.**


	17. The Undoing

******WARNING: THIS IS A DARK ****_FANTASY_****. IT IS NOT ABOUT THE BDSM COMMUNITY OR HOW TO PRACTICE SAFE, SANE AND CONSENSUAL BDSM (WHICH YOU SHOULD). IT'S MEANT TO GET YOU HORNY, NOT INFORM YOU. IF THIS KIND OF FANTASY DOESN'T EXCITE YOU, PLEASE DON'T READ.**  
**  
**

Edward sat at his desk, staring at the pile of letters in front of him, all correspondence that needed a response from him.  
But though he looked at the letters, and even occasionally shuffled them around, he didn't see them. His mind was  
elsewhere.

Where is Rosalie? he wondered, yet again.

Different scenarios had been running through his head since the moment he'd hung up the phone. One thought was that  
she had simply chosen to disappear. It was possible. She had often spoken of her desire to become an actress, stating  
more than once that she would like to move to New York and pursue that dream. This was a plan which her family did not  
approve of and had long argued against. Perhaps she had decided to pursue this dream on her own, without their  
knowledge.

Then there was the possibility of foul play. This was not a scenario he wished to think about. Nevertheless, it was a  
possibility that had to be considered. What if something terrible had happened to her once she'd left the house? Or perhaps there was some other explanation for her disappearance, something much less sinister.

As he was pursuing these thoughts, someone knocked on his office door.

"Come in," he called, looking up.

Emmett came in, closing the door behind him and greeting him with his regular, "Good morning," though to Edward he  
appeared to be somewhat downcast and tired.

"Good morning," Edward returned. "Is everything alright?"

He tried to make his question sound casual, but his brother wasn't fooled.

"I look that bad, huh?" he quipped, ruefully.

Edward chuckled. "I wasn't going to put it quite like that, but yes. You do look a little beat down."

Emmett smiled a little, but then his face turned serious, the lines along his forehead becoming more pronounced as he  
frowned. He walked away from Edward, walking over to the mantelpiece in the corner of the room and stopping in front of  
it. He stood for a moment in silence, looking at the framed photographs that rested on top.

"You know, Edward," he said, still looking at the photographs, "I started doing some serious thinking last night."  
"Really? What about?"

"About this whole mess we're in." He turned to look at his brother. His eyes were grim. "Honestly, the more I thought about  
it, the worse I felt. I began to think...I don't know...that there isn't any good way out. All I could think about was how nice it  
would be to get away from all of this. To leave all these problems behind. And that's when it hit me."

"What hit you?" Edward asked, already dreading the answer.

"The solution," Emmett said triumphantly. "It's so simple." He picked up a photograph in a heavy silver frame and brought  
it over to Edward, laying it on the desk in front of his brother and pointing at the photograph. It was a photograph of the Cullen family - Edward, his mother, and his father, as well as Emmett - taken in front of their  
home.

He remembered the day the picture was taken. It had been a perfect, golden day. Very sunny. A perfect time to test the  
family's new camera, thought his father, who had shepherded them all out to the front lawn. An ornate chair had been  
pulled into place and his mother had promptly sat down, settling herself as if on a throne. Edward and Emmett stood on  
her left hand side, as instructed by their father, who was busy tinkering with the camera settings. Then finally, all was  
ready. The timer was set and his father took his place, standing on his wife's right hand side. They all smiled and the  
camera flashed. Just as it did, he had raised his hand to rest behind his mother, touching the cold, twining metal of the  
chair. Emmett, it turned out, had moved also, folding his arms across his chest. His father, Edward noted, had also  
touched the back of his mother's chair.

Emmett's finger tapped the glass of the frame, pointing at the home behind them.

"Home," he said. "I started thinking about home and I just couldn't sleep. I had to come in here and take a look at it again.  
The longer I stood there looking at this picture, the more I started thinking how right it would be to go back. Think about it,  
Edward! This place is bad news for us! We should just leave. And what better place to go to than home?"

"There is no home to return to," Edward stated, sounding almost angry.

Emmett's face fell at his words, all animation draining away.

"I'm sorry," Edward said in a much softer voice, regretting the bluntness of his last words. "But you know it's the truth.  
There is nothing to go home to. Just memories and an empty house."

Emmett slumped into a seat, looking utterly defeated.

"Besides, they can find us just as easily there as here. The outcome would be the same," Edward pointed out.

"I know," Emmett said. "It's just, I really miss them, you know?" He let out a deep sigh before continuing. "But, yeah, you're  
right. It's impossible."

He looked up at Edward. His eyes were overly bright and his jaw clenched and unclenched. Edward suddenly realized that  
Emmett was on the verge of tears.

He came around the desk and stood beside his brother, laying a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. He hated to see  
him so distraught.

"Emmett, I really am very sorry. About everything. You know that, right? If there was anyway to change the past - "

"I know," Emmett said, cutting Edward off. "I know. We don't need to go into all of that again. Besides," he said, standing  
up, "you're my brother and I love you." He gripped Edward's shoulder affectionately. "We only have each other, after all. If  
we're going to make it through all of this, we need to stick together." He paused, looking a little uncomfortable about what  
he was going to say next. He cleared his throat then asked, "Um, how are things going, by the way?"

Edward could easily guess what Emmett was referring to, but didn't answer him right away. Instead, he merely raised an  
eyebrow and said, "What do you mean?"

Emmett had the grace to look embarrassed about what he was about to say. "Well, I couldn't help but notice the two of you  
yesterday. You and Bella. When you were outside," he confessed. "It looked like things got a little, um, heated between  
the two of you. So, does this mean you've finally had sex with her?" he asked bluntly.

For a moment, Edward was silent and it appeared as though he might not answer. But then finally, he replied, "Yes,"  
though he offered no further details.

"Alright," Emmett said. "That's progress. So, now the real training begins."

Edward was again silent on the matter. He walked away, returning to his chair behind the desk.  
Emmett studied his brother for a moment, a knowing look settling across his face.

"You know what's gotta happen next, right?" His voice was soft, sympathetic.

"Of course," Edward replied without emotion. "And it will. Soon."

Emmett watched Edward for a moment longer, a small smile playing around his mouth, as though guessing very easily the  
thoughts that had come into the other man's mind. And perhaps he had. He knew him very well, after all. But Edward would  
not rise to the bait. He did not wish to discuss Bella. Not at all. So instead he asked Emmett about something that had  
been in his own thoughts.

"Emmett, has Rosalie contacted you at all since she went away?"

As predicted, Emmett immediately turned serious. All signs of humor vanished from his face.

"No," he replied. "I haven't spoken with her since the night she left."

"Hmmmm," Edward said, wondering how much he should tell Emmett. He didn't want to burden him with further worries,  
but at the same time, this was an important matter.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Edward hedged. "I wondered if, perhaps, we should contact her, after all. Just to find out what she knows  
about the matter." He looked away from Emmett's probing eyes, looking down at the many papers on the desk in front of  
him. "And to find out how she feels about...everything."

"You mean, to see if she would be willing to go to trial on our behalf, right?" Emmett's voice whipped out. "You want to  
know if she would be okay with having her name dragged through the mud, with being ruined in order to save our hides. Is  
that it?"

Emmett's face had darkened with anger. His eyes were hard as he stared at Edward with deepest loathing,  
sending a feeling of shock through his brother. But then, just as quickly as the hatred and anger had come, it disappeared,  
leaving Edward to wonder if he had seen that look at all. Once again, Emmett's face was composed.

"Forget about what I just said," Emmett told him. "I didn't mean it. I'll see you later." And with that, he turned to leave the  
room.

"Wait," Edward said quickly, trying to stop him from leaving. "It was just a passing thought, honestly. Don't worry about it,  
alright?"

"Sure," Emmett said, barely pausing on his way to the door.

"Wait!" Edward called out again, just before Emmett closed the door behind himself. "There's one more thing I need to  
speak with you about," Edward said. Emmett turned to look at him, his expression wary. "It's nothing to do with the other  
matters we've discussed," he assured him. "It's about the lawn."

"What about it?" Emmett asked.

"The ant problem we've talked about before," Edward said. "I noticed yesterday that we still have it. Especially around the  
rose garden and behind the shed. I was wondering if there was anything you could do about it."

"Sure thing," Emmett said, giving him the barest of smiles.

It was late in the afternoon when Bella was called into Edward's office. This was not unusual. He frequently requested her  
presence in his office at that time of day, often for no apparent reason. She had begun to think of it as one of his little  
idiosyncrasies, something to be planned for and worked around with patience.

Invariably, he would call her into his office and would sit at his desk, silently working, almost as if she had never entered  
the room. But this time was different. When she walked into the room she found him standing at the window, looking out  
onto the street. More surprisingly, his attention was immediately directed onto her. He turned to look at her, his face set in  
rigid lines, as though he were made of stone.

"Good afternoon, Bella," he said, in a voice as rigid and hard as the expression on his face.

"Good afternoon," she responded.

She crossed the room to stand directly before him, gazing into his face, wondering why he seemed so bleak.

But for the moment, he did not speak. The drapes were still clenched in his hands and through the gap between them, a  
sliver of late afternoon sunlight fell upon his face. He looked tired and worried, as though he labored under a heavy load.  
His eyes still held their clear cascade of color, but the delicate skin beneath them was dark. And the lines across his  
forehead and around his mouth were deeper.

"What's the matter, Edward?" she asked softly. "You look so worried. Has something happened?"

He didn't answer her right away. Instead, he turned to look out into the street once more, looking almost longingly into the  
world beyond his window. Finally, he closed the drapes and turned to look at her. His face at first was as hard as stone,  
but then it changed, as though a spasm gripped him, cracking his facade. For just a moment, a look of great despair  
could be seen on his face. Very unexpectedly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, holding her  
much too tightly.

"Edward, I can't breathe," she choked out, laughingly. He immediately let her go, but she protested, grabbing his arms and  
wrapping them around her waist again. "No," she told him firmly, "I like this. Just not too tightly. I do need to breathe, you  
know."

She laughed again. His gesture was so unexpected, yet so hoped for, that she felt almost giddy with happiness.  
But then Edward let out a long sigh and she remembered her earlier concern.

"What's the matter?" she asked again.

"Nothing," he murmured. He pressed his cheek against the crown of her head for a moment longer then pulled back to  
study her face. His eyes swept across her forehead, eyes, and mouth. "God has been very unfair to you, hasn't he, little  
Bella? You really are much too lovely. And so completely defenseless against the worst kinds of men."

"Well, yes. I guess I am defenseless against you," she agreed. "But I would never describe you as 'the worst kind of man.'  
You are quite the contrary."

She smiled, hoping to lighten his mood, but he continued to frown at her.

"My goodness, Edward!" she exclaimed. "I don't think I will ever understand you! You get into such strange moods!" She  
broke off, beginning to feel exasperated.

At her words, he did begin to smile a little, clearly amused by her annoyance.

"Please," she said, "just tell me what is wrong."

"Everything is fine," he said, but she didn't believe him. Something was bothering him, but once again he had chosen not  
to discuss it with her.

"You don't have to keep everything to yourself, you know," she said softly, laying a hand against his cheek. "I want to help  
you if I can. Give me a chance. Even if it's nothing to do with work. If it's something personal - "

"You are helping me, Bella," he said, cutting her off. "Much more than you'll ever know."

"Well, I'm glad you appreciate me," she joked, again trying to lighten his mood.

He smiled, but the expression appeared to be strained. Finally, he let her go and moved away, taking a seat behind his  
desk.

"Bella, would you do me a favor?" he asked, not looking at her. "Would you please run outside and fetch Emmett? Tell him  
it's very important that I speak with him."

His words filled her with dread. Emmett was the last person in the world she wanted to see. But she replied, "Yes, sir,"  
and immediately went to find him.

Once outside, she found him easily. He was behind the shed, kneeling beside a stump, with a can of gas and a box of  
matches. He hadn't noticed her yet. She stopped short, not wanting to approach him any further. But then curiosity got the  
better of her.

What is he doing? she wondered.

She took a few more steps towards him, looking down at the stump.

Ants. He is lighting the ant hill on fire, she realized.

At just that moment, he noticed her presence. He looked up at her and then stood quickly, taking another step towards  
her, so that they were no more than an arm's length apart. Bella instinctively took a small step back.

"Hello, Emmett," she said, a nervous smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

He smiled back at her and said hello.

"Um...Mr. Cullen sent me to fetch you. He says it's important that he speak with you right away," Bella told him.

Having delivered her message, she turned around and began to walk rapidly back to the house, desperately wanting to  
put distance between herself and Emmett. However, it was too late. She had only taken a few steps when she felt his hand  
clutch her arm. He turned her around and pressed her backwards, pushing her roughly against the stone wall of the shed.  
He stood very close to her, one hand still clutching her arm, the other on the wall beside her, cutting off her escape. Fear  
gripped her as she looked up into his face.

He still wore his easy smile, but it never reached his eyes.

"What's your hurry?" he asked.

"I need to get back to my office," she replied, in a shaking voice. "I have a lot of work to do."

"Uh-huh," he replied absently. He wasn't listening to her. His eyes had dropped to her breasts, which she suddenly  
realized were probably visible through her shirt because of the bright afternoon sun. "You know I can see your tits through  
that blouse, right?" he asked, looking back into her face, his smile still in place.

She nodded her head, but couldn't speak.

"Because you're not wearing a bra," he continued, paying no heed to her response. "Do you have any idea why Mr. Cullen  
would make you keep your tits uncovered like that, out there for everyone to see?"

She shook her head no.

He laughed softly. "Yes, you do," he said. "It's very obvious. I'm sure a smart girl like you has had no trouble in figuring it  
out." His eyes dropped back down to her breasts. "You keep your tits on display so that they can be seen and enjoyed by  
anyone who wants them. So that any man who sees them can touch them and use them in anyway he sees fit."

As he spoke, his hand moved from her arm to her breast, closing around it and squeezing.

"Emmett, please don't do this," Bella began to plead.

"Please don't do what?" he asked.

"Don't touch me like this. Please just let me go back to the house."

His blue eyes glittered as they met hers.

"But this is what you're here for," he said patiently. "And also this," he thrust his other hand beneath her skirt and grasped  
her sex, "this is also left uncovered and available."

At this touch, she suddenly found the will to protest, beginning to struggle hard against him and kicking at his shins.

"You little bitch!" he growled. The hand on her breast flew to her throat, closing around it and cutting off her breath. He  
pulled her head forward, then banged it back against the stones of the shed wall, leaving her dazed.

"Be still or I will choke the life right out of you, do you understand?"

She nodded her head, much too frightened now to even consider fighting.

His grip on her throat was removed and his hand returned to her breast. The hand under her skirt now began to probe her  
lips, seeking the small entrance.

"No," she whimpered.

"Why do you think my dear brother would send you to me, completely uncovered and available if not in order for me to use  
you?" he said, his smile was back in place and his words held a tone of mockery, as though explaining a basic truth to a  
young child.

Unexpectedly, he shoved two fingers into her, causing her to scream out in pain. He quickly covered her mouth with one  
hand to stifle the cries.

"Still nice and tight," he observed, shoving his fingers in and out of her. "But I guess Edward beat me to you this morning.  
You're slick with his cum."

He pulled his fingers out of her and then brought them to her face.

"Lick this off of me," he ordered, uncovering her mouth and pressing his wet fingers against her lips.

She turned her head away, disgusted. He grabbed her face and turned it back towards him, gripping her jaw tightly, slowly  
squeezing her lips apart.

"Emmett!" a voice called, sharply.

Emmett's grip slackened and Bella looked over to see Victoria striding towards them.

"You have not been given permission, yet!" she told him, clearly angry.

"No," he agreed, unconcerned. "Not in so many words. But I haven't been told not to, either."

"Perhaps that is something you should clear up with Mr. Cullen, then," Victoria stated, firmly. "He is looking for you now,  
isn't he? Wasn't Miss Swan sent to fetch you? If she doesn't return soon, he will come out here to find her."

Her words held a subtle threat. One which finally held some force with him. He stepped away from Bella, letting her go completely.

"Fine," he said. "I'll talk with Mr. Cullen about it. Not that it's going to make any difference. Eventually, she will be shared.  
They always are."

And with those words, he walked away, whistling a little tune and seeming for all the world as natural and happy as he ever  
had. Once he was gone, Bella began to shake, her breathing becoming shallow and fast.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. Her legs were suddenly too weak to hold her. She slipped down onto the ground, holding her  
face in her hands.

Victoria marched over to her and yanked her back up to her feet.

"Calm down!" she snapped. "Do you want Edward to see you like this!"

Victoria continued to support her until Bella's breathing was under control and she was again able to stand on her own.

"Thank you, Victoria," she told the other woman, overwhelmed with gratitude to her. "He-he was trying..." She couldn't  
bring herself to say it. It was too terrible.

"I didn't do it for you," Victoria returned, her voice as cold as ever. "Mr. Cullen has chosen not to share you - for the  
moment. For whatever reason, he is very possessive of you. He wants to keep you for himself, at least for now. He will only  
be angry if he finds out Emmett has played with you without permission."

"Played?" Bella said faintly. "I would hardly call that play."

A very slight, bitter smile crossed Victoria's face. "No. I don't suppose you would."

An awkward moment passed as Bella remembered what had transpired between Victoria and Emmett the night before. In  
light of what had just happened to her, she realized without a shadow of a doubt what must have happened. That he really  
had assaulted Victoria. It was not just a part of their twisted sexual appetites. And with that realization came a terrible  
feeling of guilt.

I should have said something last night. I should have stopped him.

"Victoria," she began, but was cut off.

"We need to return to the house, now," Victoria said and began to walk away immediately.

Bella walked beside her. The two of them were silent until they had nearly reached the house. Then Victoria turned to Bella  
and said in a cold voice, "I realize that you are in love with Mr. Cullen."

Bella colored, but said nothing.

Victoria looked into Bella's eyes for a very long moment, seeming to weigh something in her mind. Finally she said, "I  
don't know whether or not you are aware of this, but Emmett is Mr. Cullen's brother."

"Yes, I do know," Bella responded, but Victoria carried on as though she hadn't spoken.

"He loves him very much. They share an unusually close bond. I'm telling you this for a reason. So that you can consider  
carefully whether you wish to make a complaint to Mr. Cullen about Emmett's behavior. If you do, you will only drive a  
wedge between the two brothers. Mr. Cullen might even choose to turn his brother out of the house. It's possible."  
Victoria's eyes flickered over Bella with the old glint of disdain. "I don't understand his fascination with you. Not at all.  
Nevertheless, that fascination may cause him to turn against his own brother, if only for a little while. And then what?  
Eventually, he will begin to miss his brother. He may even begin to resent you for causing the break between them. How  
will you feel then, if he begins to turn against you as the cause of the rift between them?"

"I never had any intention of telling him, Victoria," Bella snapped, "but for a very different reason."

Victoria appeared to be surprised. "Why then?"

"Because it will hurt Edward to be driven away from his brother. I have already seen how close they are. I have heard a  
little of their history this morning and I know that they share a special bond, however unnatural it may seem in the light of  
Emmett's character. I can only presume that Edward is ignorant of his true nature. To enlighten him will only cause him  
pain. I don't think I could ever wish to cause him so much hurt."

Her final words shocked Victoria more than anything else Bella had said. For just a moment, it appeared as though she  
was going to ask her something, but then she changed her mind. She shrugged her shoulders and then said in a casual  
tone, "Good. That will save trouble all around. Besides, he may still decide to share you, and none of this will matter."

"It will matter to me!" Bella declared. "What if I don't want to be 'shared?'"

"What makes you think you have a choice," Victoria asked.

"There is always a choice," Bella said, resolutely.

"Really?" Victoria returned. "You would disobey him, then? Remember, you belong to him, now. He can do with you what  
he wants."

This was a possibility that had never occurred to her before. And one which she felt nothing but dread about.

"I suppose I will deal with that when the moment comes," she muttered, as she and Victoria crossed the threshold and  
stepped once more into the house.

**I'm sorry about that, everybody. Believe me, I really do love Emmett, but in this fic, he is OOC.**

**Did anyone else notice that Bella is kind of like a cat with her damn curiosity? It's constantly leading her into**  
**trouble.**

**I wanted to tell everyone who has added my story to their list of favorites or alerts "thank you" and also I want**  
**to thank everyone who has taken the time to write a review.**

**Thank you all again for reading my story. **

**THERE IS A POLL ON MY PROFILE. THE QUESTION IS "DO YOU THINK EDWARD WILL "SHARE" BELLA?"**  
**PLEASE GO BY MY PROFILE AND CHECK IT OUT. I'M CURIOUS TO KNOW WHAT YOU ALL THINK. ~**  
**THANKS ~**


	18. The Slippery Slope

**BPOV**

Bella returned to her office, very thankful that she did not run into Emmett on the way there. She could tell by the sound of conversation coming from Edward's office that Emmett was still with him. And for a while, their conversation appeared to progress normally, their voices at a polite level. But before long, their voices became raised, and then came the sounds of actual shouting as both men raised their voices in anger.

She could not make out their words, but it was evident that the men were arguing, and quite viciously. Noises began to come through the wall, sounds of loud bumps and bangs, interspersed with shouts. She started from her chair, intending to race into the next office, truly worried now. But then suddenly the sounds of fighting ended and then she heard Edward's office door opening and banging shut. The loud echoes of Emmett's footsteps sounded down the hall as he stormed away. She sat back down again.

A moment later, Edward burst into her office. His face was white with anger, his body tense and held tight, like an animal readying to strike. His hair and clothes were in disarray. He stalked towards her and for one terrible moment she wondered if she had somehow angered him . She wondered if he intended to strike her, as Emmett had struck Victoria just the night before. Something on her face must have expressed this fear, for Edward paused and appeared to be make a great effort to control his anger.

"Bella," he said. His voice was low, tight, strained with anger. "I want to make something very, very clear to you." He stalked closer, standing in front of her desk and leaning forward with his hands on top of it, so that he was face to face with her, his eyes and hers on the same level. But while her eyes were wide with fear and surprise, his burned bright with anger. "You are **_not_** to be touched by Emmett or any other man until I give my permission! Is that clearly understood?"

She nodded her head, eyes even wider as she realized what must have set off his anger, though she was uncertain how he had found out.

He came around the desk and pulled her out of her chair, grasping her arms tightly.

"I may not be master of you once you leave this home," he growled, "but so long as you are here, I **_am_** your master! And my orders will not be questioned or broken, not by anyone!"

Bella's heart was pounding in her chest and she was almost too frightened to speak. Edward was nearly beside himself with anger.

"I-I don't understand," she stammered. "H-have I done something wrong?"

At her words, he again seemed to realize the fright he was giving her and made a great effort to control himself. It took a few moments, but when he spoke again, it was in a much calmer voice.

"No, Bella," he responded evenly. "You are not the one I am angry with. It's Emmett." His voice again snarled as he said the name and she little doubted that if Emmett had been near, Edward would have pounced on him, striking like a jungle cat, snarling and deadly.

"What do you mean?" she whispered, unable to speak louder.

"I think you know what I mean, though you are now too afraid to admit it." He took a deep, calming breath and then began to speak, explaining what had happened between him and Emmett. "When I was speaking with him in my office a few moments ago, I happened to smell your perfume on him."

Bella's stomach clenched at this reminder of her close contact with Emmett.

"Of course, I questioned him about it. He stated that he must have touched you when you went outside to fetch him earlier." His hands, still on her arms, began to shake, as though even the thought of that was enough to set off his fury. "I might have believed that lie, if he had not made the mistake of standing too close to me and, more to the point, if he had not passed his hand so near my face that I could actually smell your pussy on them."

His fury deepened with every word he spoke. His grip on her arms becoming so tight that she winced with pain. It was only then that he seemed aware that he was still gripping her arms, and that he was actually hurting her. The iron grip of his hands loosened.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I know I must be scaring you right now, and that's not what I want. What I want is for you to tell me the truth. Are you hurt? Did he actually -" He broke off again, his hands beginning to shake again with anger. It was several seconds before he could continue. "Did anything happen, other than this touch beneath your skirt?" he asked.

She shook her head, still staring at him, wide-eyed.

She felt him relax, but only slightly. "Then perhaps I will not kill him today," he said, without the slightest bit of humor. "But this _will not _happen again. Emmett claims that he did not understand you were to be left untouched. He maintains that he believes I had given my permission for this. But he has now been corrected."

His face when he said these words sent a chill through Bella. She had always had a sense of his power and his strength. But never before had he seemed so menacing. For a moment, she could easily envision Edward ripping his enemy apart, limb by limb. She shuddered at the thought, praying that she would never be on the receiving end of his fury.

"I would not like to be the cause of ill feelings between the two of you," she stated in a soothing voice, hoping that his anger would end before he did something that he would regret.

His eyes flashed across her face, all anger draining away for the moment. At first he seemed simply confused, then he looked astonished, and then finally he began to look almost angry again.

"Do you really think I would hold you accountable for any of this?" he demanded. "You, the most blameless person I know? No, Bella, the blame for this lies entirely with Emmett."

He again searched her face, but this time in a considering manner.

"He claims that I am too possessive of you. That you might actually enjoy being with others." Edward's face again began to darken with fury and his eyes narrowed as he spoke. Bella felt that he might again be at the point of explosion and wondered if now she really would be the focus of this anger. However, the explosion did not happen. Instead, he asked her, "What do you think about his words, Bella? Do you think that I have been too possessive of you? Are you ready to submit to others as you now submit to me?"

She thought carefully about his words, trying to decide the best way to answer. "I understand that it is usually expected of your...women," she finally replied. Her eyes slipped away from his. She found it difficult to think about the other women who had held her place before, the others he had made love to, and perhaps had even loved. "I suppose, if it's something that you desired, then, well." She took a deep breath and quickly made her decision. "I suppose that I will submit to them. Yes."

Her voice was very small. She despaired to think that he would ever wish to see her submit to another, in the way that she submitted to him. Yet even so, she would rather do that than lose him.

"That was not my question, Bella," he corrected her. "I want to know if it is something that _you_ would desire? Not for my pleasure, but for your own?"

She considered this question for a moment, trying to imagine what it would be like to willingly lie down with Emmett or any other man, to do with them what she had done with Edward. She couldn't. "No, sir," she finally responded. "I don't believe that I would."

At her words, he let out his breath and took her into his arms. He held her very tightly as he murmured, "That's what I thought you would say."

He pulled her away slightly and kissed her mouth, moving tentatively at first, and then deepening the kiss. His tongue darted out to lick her lips and slip into her mouth, to flick her tongue, bringing a moan from her as her own desire, always so close to the surface with him, suddenly burst forth.

Her hands strayed across his back, loving the strength she felt there. Without hesitation or embarrassment, she grasped his shirt, pulling it free of his pants so that she could reach beneath and run her hands across his naked skin. The muscles of his back were strong, but his skin was soft and warm, a heady mix that ignited her passion even more. One of her hands slipped further down, slipping into his pants and cupping his firm butt. She thought of how it had looked in the mirror that morning, thrusting back and forth as he had taken her.

At the thought, a strange sensation was awakened. A feeling like the sudden unfurling of the petals of a rose, racing across her stomach and slipping tendrils into her chest. And with this feeling came the warmth and wetness, the urgency to have him inside of her again. She pulled his hips further towards her, pushing her own back against his, grinding against the growing hardness there and moaning once again as, for the first time, she sensed the power she had over him. The power to move him, to arouse him, to ignite this passion in him, and perhaps even to push him past all control.

Suddenly, he broke away from her with a shaky laugh, grabbing her hand and pulling it out of his pants. "What has happened to my shy girl?" he teased.

A blush crept into her cheeks but she could only shrug, preoccupied by the sight of his lips, still wet and parted from their kiss. She wanted to taste them again.

But Edward had something else on his mind.

"Bella, I will give you all the kisses you want tonight, but right now I have something very important for you to do," he said earnestly.

He then instructed her to arrange for him to meet with a private investigator. She was to take extra care in finding one with special skills in the tracking of missing persons. This instruction, of course, excited many questions in her mind. However, one look at his face was enough to assure her that he would not answer any questions from her. She remained silent, therefore, though her curiosity was ablaze.

"Bella, this is very important," Edward stated. "I do not want you to discuss this around anyone but me, do you understand? This must be kept very quiet."

"Yes, sir," she replied, though this instruction intrigued her even more.

"Thank you," he said, giving her a final, brief kiss, and then turning to leave the room.

Dinner that evening was a strange affair. Edward was, as usual as of late, very much distracted with his own thoughts. Bella, too, was quite distracted - worried as she was about the long night ahead and fears that she would have an unwelcome visitor, despite all of her precautions. Even Victoria appeared to be quite distracted, serving both Edward and Bella in complete and utter silence, her eyes focused almost at every moment on Bella's face, as though searching for a clue in her expression. No doubt she was curious about what she might have told Edward regarding the afternoon's encounter with Emmett. However, with Edward actually present there was never an opportunity to discuss the matter with her or for Bella to set the other woman's mind at ease. To bring the matter up again in Edward's presence would be to risk a further violent explosion, and though his anger would not be directed at her, still it left her unsettled and uneasy. She much preferred him calm and content.

So there was silence until the two retired to the drawing room and settled into their usual places, Edward in his comfortable chair and Bella at the end of the love seat nearby. It was a sign of her new found ease in the home that she now kicked off her heels and folded up her legs, tucking her feet beside her as she leaned against the arm of the seat and sipping on her coffee. Edward surveyed her as he sipped his customary wine, running his eyes up and down her figure and smiling with a kind of comfortable satisfaction. Bella caught his look and smiled back.

"It's very comfortable," she stated, looking at her bare feet beside her. "You should try this sometime, you know."

"Try what?" he grinned. "Going barefoot?"

"Well, that too," she agreed, grinning as well, "but that's not exactly what I meant. I mean you should try to relax a bit. You're always so formal."

"Hmmm," he said, seeming to consider her words very carefully. "Perhaps you're right. I do prefer things to be neat, orderly."

"And predictable," she added.

"Predictable?" he questioned, raising one eyebrow suggestively.

"That's not what I meant," she said, flushing a bit at his implication. "I mean on schedule. Every hour of the day is laid out in its own little box. Don't you ever like to switch things up a bit?"

He laughed. "Not too much," he conceded. "I find I'm more productive that way."

A few moments passed in silence as they both sipped their drinks. The silence was broken when Edward addressed her, the seriousness of his tone caught her full attention at once.

"Bella," he said. Her eyes looked up to find his on her, giving her a look that was both anxious and determined. "I've invited some guests for dinner this week."

"Guests?" This was a surprise. No one had come to the home since she had arrived.

"Yes. I've invited some friends," He paused and gave her a look that was heavy with meaning. "Friends who share similar interests."

"Interests? What - ?" she began, but then suddenly realized what he meant. The color in her cheeks flared much brighter. Did this mean she was to be introduced to his friends as his - what - his lover? His mistress? His... she had no word to describe what she was to him. His property perhaps?

"Oh, I understand," she finally stated. Her eyes looked away from his.

"Do you?" he quizzed. His look seemed to indicate that he doubted that very much. "Well, as I was saying, we will have guests this week for dinner. Tomorrow. They are very curious to meet you."

"They are?" she asked in great surprise, catching his eye again. "Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders and this time it was his turn to look away from her, though only for a moment. "Perhaps they are eager to see what you are like, what sort of charms you have, and whether they will wish to sample them. After all, as you said this afternoon, that is usually how things proceed. Sometimes it can be helpful. Every master will have his own rules, his own punishments, his own desires. A properly trained submissive should be able to sense these moods and mould herself to please her master at any given moment."

She found the pit of her stomach sinking with every word he spoke. Had he decided that he would, after all, share her with others? Was she to be given to his friends the following evening?

"I see," she whispered, lowering her head and eyes, looking at the floor.

"Do you?" he said again. "I doubt that, somehow."

He stood up and walked towards her, settling down on the love seat beside her and taking her hands.

"Bella, tomorrow night is for your benefit. Not mine. I want you to carefully consider, during every interaction with our guests, what it might be like to be with them. How it will feel to let yourself surrender to them. I know that this is something that is difficult for you to consider, because you are so new to all of this and you have always lived your life desperately trying to repress that part of yourself. But consider it carefully before you throw it away. There are others that you might even prefer to me."

His eyes became a darker, almost forest green as he spoke, reflecting some dark emotion that waged inside of him, yet his tone remained passionless, flat.

She stared at him in disbelief. "For _my_ benefit?" she stated. "I don't see how. I already know that I want no one other than you." She stopped to bite her lip, wondering if once more she had spoken too much. If her words would send him running away again, hiding from her emotion. And with that thought came a pique of anger. Before she could stop herself, she said, "You accuse me of repressing a part of myself, but aren't you doing the same?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"I'm talking about your feelings, your emotions. You live your life so boxed up, surrounded by games and rules and schedules, everything to keep yourself separated from others and from the real business of living. You question every emotion, analyze it, and try to pluck it out. Why?" Her voice had begun to rise with her temper. "Why can't you just live your life? And why can't you just accept the way that I feel about you?" Here she stopped again, biting her lip once more to stop herself from saying something she would really regret.

Edward was silent for a very long time, a range of emotions crossing his face, fleeting across so fast that it was impossible for her to distinguish what they were. However, when he spoke again, it was not with deep emotion, but with quiet patience. "Bella, it is impossible for you to feel for me anything like what you have declared during moments of passion. You know it simply isn't possible. You don't really know who I am. If you did, you might feel differently."

"What are you talking about?" she exclaimed, her brow furrowing with confusion and annoyance. "You speak as though you are hiding some deep, dark secret. Have you some secret identity from the one I see before me now?"

"No," he replied, his face more serious than ever, "perhaps it would be better if there were. There are things which I have done, things I wish I could blame on some other identity. But no, it has always been only me."

"Again these riddles," she sighed in exasperation. "Edward, we've all done things which we regret. Things that cause us guilt. Things we'd like to change. Do you really think you are different from the rest of us in this matter? You aren't. But you can't live your life, stuck forever in the moments you most regret. And you can't judge yourself solely on the parts of your past that cause you the most shame. You are completely ignoring all the wonderful parts of you. All the things that I see and that I - "

But here he cut her off, and she wondered if perhaps he knew that she was coming dangerously close to declaring her love for him again.

"Alright, Bella," he said, abruptly. "Just trust me in this one matter. Consider for just a moment that you may not wish to submit yourself to me after you know more about me. Just allow that consideration!" he declared, stopping her from trying to speak again. "And even if you do not wish to do this for yourself, you will do it for me. Because I have ordered you to do so. And make no mistake, this is an order." And here his voice grew sharp and firm and she knew without question that it was indeed an order and there would be no way for her to avoid this.

"Very well," she stated, resigned. "I will meet your friends. I will do whatever it is that you order me to do. You know that I will."

He seemed satisfied with her answer and let the matter drop. Within a few moments, they were ready to ascend the stairs to their rooms. Once at the top of the stairs, however, they paused. Edward had walked with her to her door and then continued to stand in front of her, not yet speaking, but seeming as though he might. She watched him, curious to know what he was thinking. The look on his face was so odd - reluctant, perhaps even ashamed. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was low, the words coming slowly from his mouth.

"Bella, would you like to sleep in my room tonight? The choice is yours," he quickly added. "It's not an order."

Again, she noted the look of hesitation on his face and could only wonder at it.

"Of course I would, Edward," she replied. Did he really have any doubts as to what her answer would be?

They walked together to his room, Edward continuing to seem strangely uncomfortable. But once they entered his room, his manner changed, seeming to shift with the sight of the bed. He was once again in control. He pulled her against him and gave her a slow, smouldering kiss that set her pulse racing. Then he pulled away from her and said, "Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed." As he spoke, he turned away, going to his dresser and opening a drawer.

Bella moved quickly to comply with his order, removing all of her clothing and then moving to the bed, lying down in its center. She watched as he turned from the dresser and made his way back to her, now holding several black sashes, similar to those used on silk bathrobes or perhaps ties. Curious, she watched as he climbed onto the bed and knelt beside her. Within moments, he had her hands tied together at the wrists, then a moment after that, both hands were bound to the wrought iron bedpost with a different black sash.

When she was secured, he knelt beside her again, studying his handiwork. Her arms were extended above her, but resting on the pillow. She was not uncomfortable in this position. She did, however, feel incredibly vulnerable. Defenseless. Knowing that she could not get away from him, even if she wanted to, that he could do whatever he wanted. It sparked a dark desire in her, even while it played upon her darkest fears.

For the moment, though, he did nothing to her. He merely looked. The anticipation began to build up in her, almost as tormenting as her bindings. Finally he moved, completely surprising her by moving down to the foot of the bed. He lifted one of her feet, bringing it up to his lips, kissing and licking her toes, planting soft kisses all along the instep, before actually putting her toes in his mouth to suck softly, swirling his tongue around them. The feeling was so strange, so unexpected, and yet so erotic, that she found herself actually shivering, gasping. He took his mouth away and moved to her other foot, where he did the same thing, softly kissing, licking, sucking as she writhed on the bed, suddenly wanting him to just take her, wanting him to push himself inside of her and relieve her of this unbearable tension that was building up inside of her.

But instead of taking her quickly, he took his time, exploring her body with his mouth and tongue, almost as if he knew what she wanted and was trying to torment her by holding himself away. He kissed his way up her legs, pausing to lick the inside of her knees and to suck on the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She cried out when he did this, the tormenting pleasure becoming almost too much to bear.

"Please, Edward, please," she moaned, trying to move her body against his, but unable to do so.

He only laughed softly and continued his journey up her thigh, completely bypassing the part of her that wanted him most. She nearly cried with frustration when his mouth moved to her belly, licking around her belly button and then moving up to her breasts. Here he paused a while, using his tongue to make great swirls around her nipples and then taking them into his mouth, one at a time, alternately sucking and nipping at their tips.

He moved past these and began to kiss her neck and shoulders, trailing soft kisses up and down the sensitive skin there. The sensation was too much for her to sit silent through. She began to moan and pant, pressing her bottom against the bed, desperately trying to get some friction on her neglected pussy, to give herself some relief, but all in vain. She could do nothing but wait for him to give her what she so desperately wanted.

Finally, he moved back down to kneel between her outstretched legs. He lowered his head and licked, making great circles all around her clit, still denying her the contact that she needed. She arched up, trying to press herself against his face, but he caught her hips in his hands and held them firmly against the mattress so that she could not move even an inch.

"Please, please, please," she began to chant, almost like a prayer.

And then finally, his tongue touched her clit, licking across it lightly, teasingly. The anticipation was too great, her nerves wound up tight, waiting for the slightest touch, so much so that she very nearly came at this first touch. He seemed to sense this, and immediately moved away, kissing instead her thighs, and then moving back to her clit. This became a pattern. He would tease her clit with his tongue, bring her back to the brink of orgasm, and then move away again.

After several times of this, she was shaking, her body tense and sweating, feeling that she might go insane with this torment.

"Oh, please, Edward," she groaned. "Please let me come. Ahhh," she cried as once again he moved away just as she had reached the brink.

But this time, he moved to lay on top of her. She felt again her helplessness, her inability to control what was going to happen to her. And she welcomed it. She wanted him to take her, to possess her. He bent his head to press his mouth against hers as he thrust himself inside of her, groaning in pleasure at the wetness and heat. He pumped into her, hard and steady, finally giving her the release she'd begged for, letting her finally tip over the edge. And when she did, she screamed out her pleasure, though the scream was muffled by Edward's mouth as he kissed her, and whatever words she might have spoken were silenced as his tongue danced in her mouth.

This orgasm did not end with the fiery explosion and sparkling cinders that she had grown accustomed to. Instead, the explosion seemed to dim for only a moment before it sparked again, coursing upwards into another surge. But this surge was not an explosion. It was more like a blaze that streaked across her, down to the tips of her fingers and toes. That blaze gave way to a feeling that was neither an explosion or a blaze, but was instead like warm honey that flowed across her. Her screams became deep moans and her frantic upwards thrusting slowed until she was merely rocking with Edward's thrusts, still enjoying the sensation of him being inside of her.

A moment later, his motions became harder, disjointed. He began to groan with each deep thrust.

"Oh, Bella," he groaned, just as she felt him begin to spasm inside of her.

He pressed his mouth against hers once more and kissed her hard, moaning into her mouth as he came, releasing himself into her.

**Hope you liked that chapter. Things are really moving along now. I wonder what Edward would really do if Bella decides she does want to experiment with someone else? And what if she doesn't? Seems like a major part of his plan has gone out the window, if that's the case. Really, it seems like the ENTIRE plan is out the window. Poor Eddie just needs to figure out how to keep the girl and keep his butt out of jail. Maybe the private investigator will help him put a few pieces of the puzzle together, enough to work out a decent defense. Or maybe even a good offense.**

**What do you think?  
**


	19. Games People Play

**A/N: Sorry for the delay.**

**I'm afraid this is very smutty.**

**WARNING: THIS IS A DARK ****_FANTASY_****. IT IS NOT ABOUT THE BDSM COMMUNITY OR HOW TO PRACTICE SAFE, SANE AND CONSENSUAL BDSM (WHICH YOU SHOULD). IT'S MEANT TO GET YOU HORNY, NOT INFORM YOU. IF THIS KIND OF FANTASY DOESN'T EXCITE YOU, PLEASE DON'T READ.**

**BEFORE YOU BEGIN THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE READ:**

**What is MASOCHISM? The dictionary definition is, 1** **: a sexual perversion characterized by pleasure in being subjected to pain or *****_humiliation* _****especially by a love object, 2 : pleasure in being abused or *****_dominated*_**** : a taste for suffering.**

Another night was spent in Edward's bed, and again she was awakened in the middle of the night by the sounds of Edward calling out, tossing in the throes of a nightmare. He was much easier to calm this time, seeming comforted just by the sight of her. Again, he fell back into a deep sleep, leaving her to toss, unable to return so easily to her slumber. But this time, she had no wish to wander the house. Instead, she lay in bed, silently watching Edward sleep, marveling at his quiet perfection. She was seized with an almost irresistible desire to touch him as he slept, to kiss his unresisting mouth, and lick the skin of his neck. Perhaps she could even crawl on top of him as he continued to sleep, slipping down onto his shaft, pressing it deep inside before his eyes would ever open. The thought of taking him when he was at his most vulnerable sent an inexplicable thrill through her. Carefully, she reached towards him and ran a finger across his lips.

"Bella," he breathed.

She froze, looking up at his eyes. But they were still closed. Edward slept. Dreaming about her.

She glowed with this thought, her eyes shining with pleasure as she watched him sleeping, knowing that she was in his thoughts.

"Bella, don't go," he said, his voice sounding soft and sad.

"Shh," she said, nuzzling closer to him and kissing his face. "I'm right here."

Whether he heard her words, she didn't know. He did not acknowledge them. But his arm tightened around her and his breathing deepened as he fell into an even deeper, dreamless sleep.

The day passed in a frenzy of anticipation for Bella. The thought of meeting Edward's friends, of being introduced as a possible sexual partner for them, filled her with such anxiety that she could hardly concentrate all day. She did arrange an appointment for Edward to meet with a private investigator the following afternoon, but that was the extent of her diligence that day.

And then finally the evening came.

Bella had been prepared on what to expect well in advance of their guests' arrival. Edward, who had spent the day looking as tense as Bella had felt, called her to him shortly before she was to ascend the stairs to prepare for dinner. His words had been brief, maybe even terse, but knowing what to expect after their guests' arrival took away a measure of Bella's anxiety.

"We will all dine together," he had informed her. "Nothing will be expected of you during the meal, other than for you to enjoy the meal and the company of our guests."

He stopped speaking, his long, graceful fingers toying with the ends of his hair, smoothing it against his head. It was a motion that Bella had come to recognize as one he fell into during times of stress.

"And what will happen after dinner?" she asked softly, knowing that there must be something to cause his apparent discomfort. She met his eye unflinchingly, encouraging him to continue speaking.

He returned her gaze. "After dinner, Victoria will come to fetch you. You will be lead into a special room, one you have not yet seen, and there you will be prepared for our enjoyment. Victoria will instruct you on how to properly present yourself to us and what will be expected of you." He paused for just a moment and then said, "And then we will join you."

She looked into his eyes for several long minutes, saying nothing, as the vision of herself - naked and presented for the enjoyment of these unknown guests - flickered in her mind. Her uneasiness grew. But beneath this uneasiness was something much worse, a kind of mortified arousal at the thought of Edward displaying her in such a manner, presenting and disposing of her as he would any other piece of personal property. She began to tremble and clutched her fingers together to stop their shaking. She did not wish to have sex with these strangers, she told herself. That was not what had caused her strange arousal. It was the thought of her complete subjugation to Edward. Of being completely controlled and owned by him. That was what caused her to suddenly burn and ache with a need for him.

And that was what sickened and disturbed her. She could not wish this for herself. It was unacceptable. The worst step yet in this downward spiral.

Yet as she looked into his green eyes, she was seized with an irrational desire to fling herself onto her knees in front of him, to take him into her mouth, to suck and lick and moan as he used her for his own pleasure. To worship that part of him. And to find her own ecstasy in this adoration.

NO!

She would not sink that low! She would do this because he wanted her to, but she would not enjoy any aspect of it.

"I thought that I would only be meeting your friends tonight," she said abruptly, turning her thoughts away from her disturbing vision. "Am I expected to do something more, then?"

"No. Not for them," he replied, "but you are expected to obey and please _me,_ whether others are present or not."

A stern expression had entered his eyes.

"Oh, of course," she replied, biting her lip, thinking about his words.

With a final parting word, she turned and climbed the stairs to her room.

The act of getting ready soothed her frayed nerves. Dressing and grooming, brushing her hair and applying her cosmetics, brought about a sense of calmness, as the mindlessness of the ritual settled in and her fears receded. With a final dab of perfume, she was finished, as polished and prepared as she could hope to be. She approached the mirror again and swept her eyes across her figure and face. The dress she had chosen for the evening fit quite nicely, hugging her curves and flaring out in all the right places. It added an hour-glass quality to her figure that she naturally lacked. Its deep midnight blue color somehow brightened her own complexion, bringing out the color of roses and cream on her smooth cheeks.

Satisfied with her appearance, she left her room and joined Edward in the study to await the arrival of their guests. She found him to be dressed very elegantly and looking even more handsome than was usual. But an air of tension continued to hang over him and she knew that a part of him still doubted this decision, still wanted to keep her hidden from others, his private possession. Yet another part of him wanted this, she knew that also.

Soon, the guests began to arrive. There were four in total, all gentleman between the ages of thirty and forty, all distinguished and well-dressed. Bella examined each of them as she was introduced, acutely aware that the examination was mutual. She noted an appreciative look in their eyes as they discreetly looked her over, eyes flickering briefly across her figure and face.

And she did the same, studying their faces and figures, noting their individual style and manner. She concluded that they were all handsome, though in different ways, but very little more about them impressed her.

Only one, a Mr. Jasper Whitlock, distinguished himself from the rest. He was handsome, certainly. Nearly as handsome as Mr. Cullen. But that was not what marked him as different from the others. There was about him an attitude of thinly concealed danger, as though beneath his calm surface was a capacity for swift, decisive action. It was an intriguing, if unsettling, quality.

From time to time throughout dinner, she would chance to look up, only to find his eyes on her, watching her with that look of carefully controlled inaction, a look that promised perhaps danger, but certainly pleasure. Always, when this happened, she would look away, flustered and uncomfortable. Usually, she would look away from his eyes only to find herself meeting those of Edward, who was watching her every expression with interest.

Soon the moment had come. Victoria entered the room with her apologies and summoned Bella away from the table. Bella rose awkwardly, unable to lift her eyes to those of the gentlemen seated around the table, knowing that she would soon be completely and utterly exposed for them.

She mumbled a quick, "Excuse me," and hastily followed Victoria from the room, rushing past even Edward without lifting her glance. As she left, she had the disconcerting feeling of several pairs of eyes following her.

They walked in silence, Bella feeling suddenly much too anxious to speak. Victoria led her to a locked door that she had never noticed before. It was under the stairs. The housekeeper withdrew a key and unlocked the door, throwing it open to reveal another flight of stairs which led down into a kind of cellar.

"Enter," Victoria said, her eyes fixed on Bella, seemingly expressionless, yet Bella believed she could detect a hint of curiosity in the woman's eyes. Perhaps she wondered if Bella actually would submit to this next step without hesitation or resistance. Or perhaps she wondered if her employer would truly allow the other men to touch Bella. Whatever the question, she didn't ask and Bella was much too distracted by her own thoughts to pay them more than a passing notice.

She passed through the doorway, stepping onto the stairs and descending into the dark room. In many ways, it was much like the rest of the house. It was comfortably and richly furnished. However, this room was furnished with a number of unusual items of furniture, the use of which she could easily guess, judging by the restraints which most of them featured. There was also a cabinet in which, she would later learn, were a number of instruments used for both pleasure and pain. The room filled her with both dread and fascination.

What would happen to her in here?

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by Victoria. "Remove your clothes," she instructed Bella quietly.

At first, Bella could only stare. This was the moment of decision, she knew. And as she looked into the other woman's eyes, she knew that she was thinking this, too.

But really, there was no decision to make.

With a sigh, Bella began to undress. If Victoria was surprised by her quick capitulation, she did not show it. She moved to assist Bella with her clothes, undoing the zipper in the back and then kneeling down to assist in the removal of her shoes, garters and stockings. As usual, she did not wear under clothes. When she was completely naked, Victoria put her things away in a closet and then instructed her to move into the center of the room and kneel, sitting on her heels with her knees parted. Her hands were to rest on her knees, with her shoulders back and head lowered.

Once she was settled on the floor, Victoria began to speak again. "This position will show your breasts to their best advantage," she said. "The private places between your legs, both the front and the back, will be left open, a constant invitation for your master and those he might choose to share you with. You must keep your head and eyes lowered as a sign of your submission and to show that you accept the gentlemen's authority over you."

Bella shook at these words, a warm flush spreading across her body. Her face burned. But she did not speak a word.

Although Bella had been convinced that Victoria would taunt her in some way, sneer about her master's decision to present her to his friends, she did not. Instead, she turned and left the room without saying another word, leaving Bella behind to kneel silently, awaiting the arrival of the men.

She did not wait many moments more before the door at the top of the stairs opened and the sound of footsteps on the stairs was heard. Those who entered came in quietly and as she did not raise her eyes from the floor to look at them, she was at first uncertain as to who had actually entered the room. Her curiosity was soon satisfied, however, when two pair of feet approached her. One was Edward's, but the owner of the second pair of feet was a mystery at first.

"She kneels very prettily," a voice said. She could tell by the slight Texas drawl that the voice belonged to Jasper Whitlock. "Have you posed her before?"

"No," Edward answered. "Her training has been very limited. This is the first time she has been in this room, as a matter of fact."

"Really?" Mr. Whitlock exclaimed. "How extraordinary!"

"She has required very little training," Edward continued. "Her affinity for submission is so strong."

"Yes, I could sense that, too," Jasper replied. "Has she been whipped before?"

"No," Edward told him. "But I have paddled her more than once and I have also spanked her with my bare hand. She responds very well to both of these measures. And I mean that in more ways than one. Of course, the punishment does improve her attitude and her behavior. In that sense, her punishments are extraordinarily effective. But she also becomes extremely aroused during her discipline. A man could take her immediately after a spanking and find her to be very pleasantly warm and wet, ready to receive him."

Bella heard these words with increasing mortification.

_How awful to hear something so shameful spoken out loud, told to a stranger!_

Jasper, however, found this revelation to be quite interesting. "Intriguing," he said, his voice sounding like a caress. "I would like to have a closer look at her, if I may?"

"Of course," Edward stated, his voice polite.

Bella was then made to rise and was led to a leather padded table that was about waist high. She kept her eyes averted as she was made to sit on its top, laying back and bringing her legs up so that her feet rested on the table. Her legs were now spread, exposing her completely to their scrutiny.

"You are certainly right about her responsiveness," she heard Mr. Whitlock say. "She is already very wet."

"Yes," Edward said, He sounded slightly amused. "She becomes aroused at just the mention of her punishment. As I said, she is a natural submissive. And of course, her masochism brings her extraordinary physical pleasure."

_Masochism? What's that? _Bella wondered.

Suddenly, she felt hair brush her upper thighs and gave an involuntary gasp. Evidently, she was not the only one who reacted to Jasper's unexpected closeness.

"Relax, Edward," she heard Jasper say. "I won't touch her. Not yet. I only wanted a closer look."

"Of course," Edward replied, his voice now sounding clipped and cold. "Perhaps now would be a good time for a true demonstration of her abilities."

"I'd be delighted to see," Jasper informed him.

She was now removed from the table and led by Edward over to a chair. He sat down and then pulled her across his lap, holding her firmly against his body.

"And do you always place her across your knee for her punishments?" Jasper asked in a curious voice.

Edward paused for a moment before finally saying, "Always."

"Hmmmm. A very intimate position, isn't it?"

To this, Edward made no reply. Instead he began the spanking, bare-handed, as was his usual preference. The pain of this spanking was not extraordinary. She was much more bothered by the fact that Mr. Whitlock, a man whom she had only just met, was witnessing it. Knowing that he was watching her as she lay naked across Edward's lap, receiving a spanking, filled her with mortification. And that she was growing wetter with every smack of his hand made the experience all the more humiliating.

"Would you be comfortable whipping her for me?" Mr. Whitlock suddenly asked. "I would like to see what her reaction will be."

Bella let out a soft moan of protest at this request, filled with a sudden fear. She had never been whipped before, not even as a child, and the thought of being whipped now that she was an adult was more than humiliating. It was frightening. She silently prayed that Edward would refuse this request. However, the two men carried on their conversation as though she had not uttered a sound, seemingly oblivious to her own wishes in this matter.

"Certainly," Edward answered his friend. "I'm curious to see her reaction, as well."

There was a sound of a cabinet opening and then Jasper was handing something to Edward. She twisted around on Edward's lap, too moved by dread and curiosity to worry about Victoria's instructions. Just as she had feared, it was a leather strap. A very simple one, made like a belt without buckles. Edward looped its length and held it tight in his hand, raising it to serve the first blow. Before it fell, he chanced to see her face.

"Head down, Bella!" he ordered, sharply. "Eyes on the floor."

She immediately turned and lowered her head, waiting with muscles tensed for the first flick of the belt. When it came, she cried out, jerking forward as the pain burned across the smooth, rosy cheeks of her butt. Another blow came. And then another. Soon she was dancing on his lap, swaying to avoid the bite of the leather and begging him to stop - something which both amused and excited Jasper, who made a number of comments about her writhing behind. Edward wrapped his arm around her waist and held her more tightly against him, holding her in place as he continued whipping her. She could feel the hard press of his erection against her side, hot and demanding, and she wondered if she would soon be removed from his lap so that he could take her.

Suddenly, the whipping stopped. Edward returned the strap to Jasper and then smoothed the red welts that had flared across her bottom, lightly tracing them with the tips of his fingers. A moment later, Bella felt Edward's cool fingers parting her thighs and slipping in between, stroking the silky folds of her center.

"Ah..." he sighed, slipping a finger within her. "I thought she would enjoy being whipped and I am not disappointed. She is extremely aroused, already on the verge of orgasm. Her pussy is so hot and wet."

Edward's skilled fingers stoked the heat that was already burning in Bella, pushing her ever closer to her climax. But she was determined not to climax. Not like this. Not in front of this stranger. She bit back a whimper that had risen to her lips, but could not stop the gradual lifting of her hips, the thrusting of herself upon his fingers, as he worked her closer and closer to orgasm. Then, when she feared that she would not be able to stop herself from plunging over into that ecstasy, he withdrew his fingers and ordered her off of his lap, making her instead to kneel down on the floor in front of him. He stood above her.

"Bella, look at me," he said, his voice husky with desire.

She looked up into his face.

"I want you to show Mr. Whitlock how much you enjoy sucking my cock," he said, his eyes burning into hers. "Let him see how much you like to taste and touch it. Suck it while you touch yourself. I want him to see you cum while you suck my cock."

Bella's eyes widened, her face reddened. She made the barest of protests, a slight shake of her head, and made a soft sound deep in her throat. Her eyes flickered from Edward to Jasper, who watched her reaction with interest. She looked again at Edward. The stern set of his face told her that he would not be persuaded from this. And did she really want to disobey him? Didn't she really want to do this, despite her embarrassment and dismay? Wasn't this exactly what she had thought about with such desire just hours earlier?

Bella leaned forward, reaching out with shaking fingers to unfasten his belt and work at the button and zipper of his trousers. She pushed down his pants, revealing his erection. At first, she only looked at him, marveling at his length and hardness, but then she began to caress him, gliding her fingers up and down the smooth shaft, curling at the top to stroke across the sensitive head.

"Touch yourself," he reminded her.

Obediently, she began to touch herself, stroking the swollen nub of her clit. And she realized that Edward had spoken the truth - she was incredibly aroused, the soft folds of her pussy were inflamed, dripping with her desire. She knew that her orgasm would come quickly.

Bella's lips parted, her tongue darting out to lap across the tip of his penis, licking up the wetness she found there, and causing Edward to groan and tense. Finally, she took him into her mouth completely, bringing another sound of pleasure from him. She bobbed her head up and down, letting her tongue flick across the ruby red tip during the upstroke and then lapping gently at the sensitive underside as she came down, slurping him down with complete abandon.

By then, she had forgotten completely about their silent witness. Her focus was only on him, on his pleasure, and the excitement that raced through her from doing this for him. She pulled him out of her mouth, and kissed the underside of his shaft, then ran her tongue across his balls, loving how tight and hard they had become. The manly, musky scent of them was intoxicating, almost painfully alluring.

And then the tingling, tightening of her approaching orgasm rushed over her, but before she could cry out, Edward grasped her head and pushed himself back into her mouth. Bella's body exploded with pleasure, her finger slipping and sliding furiously across her clit, moaning against his flesh, sending ripples of vibration through him.

Her lips continued to press tightly against him, loving the way he felt in her mouth, the taste of him, and the sounds he made as his own pleasure peaked. She relished the hard, sure thrusts of his hips as he pushed himself even further inside of her mouth and the possessive hand on the back of her head - all the things that told her he was her master.

And as she lapped the last drops of his cum from him, she knew that that was all that she wanted.

**WOW! So, that was intense. **

**I enjoyed it. How about you?**

**Please see my profile for answers to some of your questions about this chapter.**

**There is a new poll on my profile. The question is "Do you want Jasper to 'play' with Bella?" Yes, No, or Only if Edward plays, too. **

**If you want to tell me how you're feeling about this, just cast your vote.**


	20. Bella Ascendant

**WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC THAT EXPLORES THEMES OF DOMINATION AND SUBMISSION AS WELL AS SADISM AND MASOCHISM.**

**Masochism is, 1** **: a sexual perversion characterized by pleasure in being subjected to pain or *****_humiliation* _****especially by a love object, 2 : pleasure in being abused or *****_dominated*_**** : a taste for suffering.**

**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

Bella continued to kneel in front of Edward as he adjusted his clothes. Her head was bowed again, hands on her knees, thighs parted. The perfect submissive pose.

There was a heavy silence in the room, a stillness. Bella was lost in the silence, as a sense of quiet creeped into her bones. In her mind, she could see herself as she was now, kneeling at her lover's feet. But in the image in her mind, she was drifting, as if on a sea of black cotton - a soft and calm and quiet sea. Dark and never ending. With nothing else within that sea but her and her lover.

She was happy.

She heard Jasper move closer and was startled, having forgotten that he was even there. Now, she became aware of him again.

His hand brushed across the top of her head, stroking through the long strands of her dark hair.

"Lovely," he whispered almost reverently. "She is every bit as lovely as you said. And the passion that belies her innocence. It's nearly irresistible." His caresses stopped. "No! Do not look at me that way, Edward," he said, sounding both annoyed and indulgent, as one would with a favorite brother. "I will keep my word. I have no plans to touch her at this moment. Perhaps not at all."

"Not at all?" Edward sounded incredulous.

"No," Jasper replied. "Not after watching the two of you together. It's truly extraordinary. Fascinating to watch." His voice was wistful. "The way the two of you move, as graceful as dancers, every look and word, every motion, seeming almost like a dance. A performance, well-rehearsed and flawless, yet still fresh. It's no wonder you're so infatuated with her."

Edward sucked in his breath.

"I'm not infatuated with her," he stated, evenly.

"Of course you are," Jasper countered. "And who wouldn't be? She is beautiful, charming, intelligent, passionate. I imagine most men would find themselves in danger of becoming infatuated with her."

"Urgh!" Edward exclaimed in irritation. He stalked away, leaving Jasper to follow him.

She heard the two men walk to the other end of the room and sit down in the comfortable chairs that were there.

Jasper spoke again. "Well, if you won't own up to a simple infatuation, perhaps I should name it something altogether different."

There was the sound of him shifting in his chair, bending closer to Edward and speaking to him in a lowered voice. Speaking so low that she could not make out his words, only the indistinct sounds of murmuring.

His words, whatever they were, seemed to upset Edward even more.

"Ridiculous!" he protested. "You are wrong. Completely wrong."

"Really?" Jasper sounded unconvinced. "I don't think so. I think that on this one occasion, it is _you_ who are mistaken. Everything becomes clearer now. Your rules. The secrecy. Your jealousy."

"Enough!" Edward very nearly roared.

His reaction only seemed to amuse Jasper all the more, who burst out into quiet laughter. "So much for your famous insight," he said, laughing still. "You seem to be completely in the dark about this. You know, I'm kind of happy about all of this. It's nice to finally see you fall." He laughed again. "Honestly, I never thought I'd see you wearing those chains."

"Okay, Jasper," Edward said coldly. "You've had your joke. Now let this drop."

"Alright, then. I'll let it go." he said, though somewhat reluctantly.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, what are your thoughts?" Edward prompted, his tone impatient.

"As for what we discussed earlier," Jasper's voice had become serious, "to be honest, I don't believe she would ever really submit to me."

Edward made a small sound in the back of his throat.

Before he could speak, Jasper continued, "Oh, without a doubt, she would obey all of my commands. Provided you had instructed her to do so." Bella could hear a smile in his voice. "But that would be the catch, wouldn't it? She would not really be submitting to me, but to you. Her every act of obedience would only serve to prove to you the depth of her devotion, of her submission, to _you_, not me. And when I give her the discipline she needs, and when she cries, her tears will not be for me. They will not be caused by the pain I give to her with my hand or my whip, but from the pain _you _are giving her through me. No doubt, she would receive a great deal of pleasure from this, but not from any action of mine. It will only be pleasure from her sense of degradation. The humiliation she feels because you have given her to another. And any excitement she feels would be the result of your continued control of her, your domination, your will. Not mine."

"No," Edward said softly, in tones of disbelief.

"Yes, Edward," Jasper insisted. "It's the truth. Anyone with eyes can see the effect you have on her. It should be obvious to you, as perceptive as you normally are. And if ever I were with her, even at the moment of climax, you would be in her thoughts. It would be your face she sees in her mind, not mine. What use is any of this to me? What pleasure would I derive from it? None!" he exclaimed. "She belongs to you completely. She will acknowledge none other."

"Impossible," Edward breathed.

"Not at all," Jasper responded. "It does happen. Frequently, I understand."

"This isn't one of those occasions," Edward said, but his tone held some notes of doubt, now.

"Well, ask her yourself, if you don't believe me. But really, your attitude is surprising," he continued, now sounding disapproving. "I know you like to avoid these types of entanglements. All the same, you should be happy, not mourning. It's a rarity for two people, so perfectly matched, to find one another."

Quite abruptly, Edward stood up.

"Allow me to walk you out," he said, his voice constrained, tense.

Jasper, however, was not offended. He stood and allowed Edward to escort him from the room, stopping along the way to caress the tumbling waves of Bella's dark locks and to run the tips of his fingers across her face, his thumb lingering on her lips.

"Goodbye, beautiful Bella," he murmured softly before turning to follow Edward up the stairs.

Bella remained behind, kneeling, head lowered, eyes on the floor and unfocused as she thought. She heard, rather than saw, when Edward returned some moments later. His shoes scraping on the stairs, sliding on the floor, as though reluctant to make the journey to her.

"You can get up now, Bella," he told her when he had nearly reached her. "Our little game is finished."

She stood and watched as he finished the walk across the room to her, noting the shuffling walk, the grim set to his mouth, and most importantly, the question in his eyes.

_Do you want him? _his eyes asked, the expression anxious, guarded...afraid?

"Of course not," she sighed with near exasperation. "How many times must I tell you before you believe me? I want only you. I need only you."

She would have gone on, but he had already reached her, taking her into his arms and kissing her furiously, as though channeling every ounce of his frustration, fear, and desperate longing into that one kiss. And she met him with an equal fury, grasping his hair in one hand and tugging on it hard enough to elicit a groan of pain and pleasure from him even as her other hand slipped onto the back of his neck, running her nails across his skin, purposely trying to inflict a measure of pain to him. Just a measure to pay him back for the misery that he had put her through these past few days or longer, all the time that he had been holding himself back from her. Leaving her wretched in the belief that he cared nothing for her. That he would never return her love. When all this time, as had now become obvious to her, he was as much under her spell as she was his.

She bit his lip and he moaned again, pressing harder against her, hard enough for her to feel his sudden urgency. And she drifted backwards, tugging him with her, moving towards the little table that she had posed on earlier, wanting to rest on it again, but this time with him there with her, caught between her thighs, her prisoner. Sensing what she wanted, he lifted her up, bringing her bottom to rest on the edge of the table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing her heated core to rest against his bulge.

"Ahhh..." he moaned, as she writhed against him, teasing him without mercy, all the while laying kisses and bites along the tender side of his neck, making him shudder and thrust harder against her.

"Oh, God, Bella," he said in a husky, tortured voice, "you don't know what I've gone through these past few hours. The thoughts that have tormented me."

But before she could respond, he had recaptured her mouth, running his tongue across her lips and into her mouth, tasting her, teasing her, and then deepening the kiss. His mouth began to move against hers urgently, his need enveloping her in a powerful wave. All at once, his hands seemed to be everywhere, stroking across her body, palming her breasts, grasping the sore flesh of her behind, and tracing the lines of her arms and thighs, as though to memorize everything about her. This was like drowning, it left her breathless. She sagged against him, passive once again, letting him do with her whatever he wanted, letting him kiss and fondle her at his will.

"Mine," he murmured against her lips.

"Yours," she murmured in agreement.

And then suddenly his hand was between them, opening his pants and letting his erection spring free, pressing up against her, and nudging at the cleft between her thighs. She sighed and strained against him, opening herself even more for him, silently begging him to take her now.

And then he did. In one hard thrust, he entered her completely, bringing a moan from both of them as the pleasure of taking and being taken washed over them. He began to move within her.

"Oh, that feels so good!" she cried out, her arms wrapped around his neck, her hips grinding against him.

One of his hands gripped her tightly around the waist as his other hand twisted into her hair, pulling her face up to his watching eyes.

"Say it," he commanded her, his eyes still watching her every expression of ecstasy.

She knew what he wanted to hear. Knew it without any need to ask. It was the thing she had been struggling against saying since he had first entered her.

"I love you," she moaned as she looked into his eyes. She felt his body shiver, his face flushed darker, he pushed harder into her.

"Say it, again," he groaned.

"I love you," she said.

Again, the shiver of delight, the hard forward thrust, and now a deep moan was wrung from him.

"I love you," she said again, without any need for prompting.

She undulated against him, making circles with her hips, quivering with every motion. Repeating those same words to him over and over again, and delighting in the shivers of pleasure they wrung from him every time. And even when her climax overwhelmed her, she said those words, loudly at first as she drowned in the throes of passion, and then softly, sobbing, basking in the ebbing flow of her afterglow.

She felt his body suddenly become tense and his thrusts become hard and fast. His fingers pressed into the flesh of her hips, gripping her tightly, as he came, his head thrown back and his lips parted in a look of almost sweet agony. He shook again and she felt him spasm deep within her with the intensity of his pleasure.

He was still for a moment, panting hard, desperately trying to catch his breath. Then he lowered his face to hers, brushing his mouth against hers, and breathing one soft word. That word was "yes."

She ran her hands across his shoulders and into the damp hair that clung to the nape of his neck. She felt him shiver again.

"Oh, Bella," he said softly, looking now into her face, an expression of great wonder and uncertainty in his eyes. "I think..." He paused a moment, faltering as a shade of apprehension entered his eyes. He tried to speak again. "I really do think - "

But here he broke off completely, lowering his head in something close to defeat and closing his eyes.

And then he pulled away from her, pulling up his pants and fastening them without another word, purposely keeping his eyes away from hers.

"What?" she demanded, suddenly angry. "You think what?"

"Nothing," he replied. "You can get dressed, now. We are through with this room for tonight." He sounded distracted, preoccupied with his own thoughts. Though, of course, he would not share them with her.

She narrowed her eyes and watched him a moment longer, but he would never meet her eyes. Finally, she got down from the table, and retrieved her clothes from the closet without another word to him. She pulled them on in angry, jerking motions, hands shaking and eyes tearing up with the heat of her fury.

_How can he continue to play these games with me? _

She asked herself this over and over again, all during the walk upstairs. Her anger flaming brighter with every step, with every memory of his words, of his eyes, as he begged her to confess again her love for him.

And then he gave nothing in return.

_Why?_

At the top of the stairs, she turned silently towards her own apartment, but his hand stopped her. He gripped her arm, forcing her to stop and face him.

"Where are you going?" he asked, seeming surprised.

"To my room," she replied coldly.

"Why?"

She arched her eyebrows. Why indeed!

"Where would you rather I slept?" she asked.

He sighed. "You know I want you to sleep with me in my room."

"Oh, really?" she said in a voice of exaggerated surprise. "And why is that?"

"Do I need a reason?" he retorted, beginning to sound irritated. "I just do. Now come to my room with me."

"I thought you said it wasn't an order," she replied, still seething with anger. "I thought it was my choice whether or not I wanted to sleep in your room. Isn't it still?"

A look of hurt crossed his face and for just a moment, she began to regret her words. "Don't you want to sleep with me?" he said softly, his other hand coming up now to rest on her other arm.

She looked at him, her expression softening, as she saw the struggle and pain in his eyes. Why was all of this so hard for him? Surely, to be in love was much more natural, much easier to admit, than all the other things that had passed between them.

"Of course I do," she replied in a much softer voice. "I just want to know why it matters to you whether or not I do."

"It just does," he told her. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, and then finally he said, "Please?"

Before she could reply, a small movement in the hall beyond him caught her attention. Standing in the shadows was Victoria. Her face twisted with deepest pain and eyes wet with tears. As her eyes met Bella's, her face twisted again and she spun on her heel, hair flying in a red wave behind her, as she quickly retreated to her own room. The door shut quietly.

And Bella stood frozen, watching the space where the woman had been, stunned by the look of pain and loss and longing that had wracked the woman's face.

She looked back at Edward. Edward who had never known Victoria stood watch behind him in the doorway and who knew nothing of the other woman's pain. His eyes were still on Bella's face.

"Yes, Edward," she breathed. "Of course I will come with you to your room."

**Thanks for reading the story. Things are really changing, now. It seems that Jasper has opened both their eyes. Too bad Edward still can't seem to get the damn words out!**

**Do you see a power struggle happening, as Edward falls deeper in love with her? So, how will this work out? How will they work out the power issue, both in and out of the bedroom? Should be interesting.**

**Poll results were surprising. My readers are almost evenly divided between those who want Bella and Jasper to play a bit and those who do not want it at all. I thought everyone would be violently against the idea of Bella being with someone else. Personally, I've never thought that Edward would tolerate it, not right now. Down the road, this might change. But for now, in the first flush of passionate love, he can't tolerate it. That's too bad, because I would really love for Edward to have Bella do some really nasty, freaky stuff, lol. Oh, I'm terrible. I know. Maybe I'll do some outtakes for this story, with all the things Edward would do with Bella if he had not fallen in love with her. It could be the story of Bella's true training, without the interference of true love.**

**I have a link to a Photobucket account I set up for Into the Grey House on my profile. I will be adding more pics over time. BDSM warning for the pics.**

**There's a new poll on my profile. The question: Where is Rosalie? Choices: 1.) Buried under the rose bushes 2.) With Mike, plotting Edward's downfall, 3.) Held captive by Emmett in a secret room, 4.) None of the above.**

**So, where do YOU think she is?**


	21. Dream

**Again, not a true chapter. Just a practice piece as I worked myself back into writing it. The story begins in the next chapter. This is Bella's dream. A reflection on their relationship.**

* * *

Bella lay beside Edward as the night deepened. She could hear the steady intake of his breath and the sound was soothing, lulling her away from thoughts of fears and hurts. She drifted slowly into sleep, and as she slept she dreamed.

In her dream, she found herself once again in that strange room, kneeling and naked once more. And there also was Edward, standing before her. The hard, black shine of his leather shoes gleamed before her eyes and for just an instant she thought of pressing her lips against them or even running her tongue across them, leaving a slick trail there and a taste of leather in her mouth. But she kept her head lowered and never moved at all. Her only motion was the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

A shift.

The dream had changed, in the strange way they often do.

Edward no longer stood before her. He was naked and kneeling and she stood before him, clothed in cold leather. His head was lowered, his eyes now watched her feet.

She looked down at his lowered head and watched the wreathe of his hair change from copper to gold and lighter still, as the chamber lights made his hair glisten like platinum.

He watched her feet still and she knew that he wanted to kiss them. Perhaps he'd like to run his tongue between her toes, worship her, spurred on by his love of her. A love that made him now her slave.

She felt perverse for enjoying that thought, yet she could not stop the growing wetness between her legs as she trembled within, thinking of taking him completely into that abyss.

_My own possession._

But even as she thought this, she felt the gentle press of his lips against her toes and the sweep of his tongue between them as he came forward, no longer kneeling quiet and unmoving. He ran his mouth across her feet and swept up onto her ankles, gently tonguing the sloping valley between her foot and leg.

Unbidden, a moan escaped her lips.

She shivered as he staked his claim.

Again, things changed and she was naked once again. Tumbling down onto her knees. Kneeling with him, face to face, knee to knee. Yet her own eyes were lowered before him and his, she somehow knew, were raised to look once more onto her face, giving her that blazing look of his. The look that spoke to her of adoration and possession.

"Always," she sighed, as she slowly came awake.

The sun was now shining in the room, Edward slept on beside her, for once content in his sleep, never once plagued by nightmares or strange dreams.

* * *

**Thanks for reading the story. I was just dipping my toe back into writing and into the story went I wrote this allegorical dream. It was a transition chapter for me. **


	22. The Detective

In the afternoon, Mr. Cullen had an appointment with a private investigator, a man named Mr. Weise. Although Bella had assumed Edward would prefer to go alone to this appointment, he had insisted that she accompany him, a demand which secretly pleased her. Although it was true that she had many pressing matters to attend to in the office, she would rather neglect them than miss the opportunity to attend this errand with him. In truth, she had dreaded the thought of being alone in the house. Or - more to the point - she had dreaded the thought of being left in the company of Victoria and Emmett.

She had cringed at the sight of Victoria's pale face that morning, remembering the pain she'd seen on the woman's face as she'd watched them the night before. That night she had realized that Victoria was just as much in love with Edward as she was. And so she could understand the woman's distress.

Knowledge of Victoria's secret love for Edward had left Bella shaken and confused, and also strangely wracked with a sense of guilt and pity for the woman. Pity, because she knew the woman's affection was fruitless, not even acknowledged by the object of her love. And guilt because she felt certain that Victoria's pain would only grow in time, not diminish.

No, she did not want to be alone with the woman. She shrank from the thought of speaking with her, of seeing her.

And as for Emmett, her only thought was to avoid even the sight of him. She could not bear to think of him, seeing only his cold blue eyes and the broad, mocking smile he had worn as he forced himself onto her. She shuddered and felt quesy, plagued by a memory of his large hands grabbing her breast and slipping beneath her skirt. His thick, calloused fingers touching her and forcing their way inside of her.

No! She would never willingly be alone with him again.

So it was with intense relief that she realized she would accompany Mr. Cullen to his appointment that afternoon, although she found the request curious as he had never asked her to join him on excursions before. She suspected that he was reluctant to leave her alone in the house and that this was proof of his growing distrust of his brother, although whether this was a passing emotion or a true change in feeling, she was not certain.

When the time came to leave the house, they climbed into Mr. Cullen's sleek automobile. It was a large, luxurious vehicle, black and shiny on the outside and all soft leather inside with rich wood panels across the dash. Normally, Emmett acted as a chauffeur for his brother, but on this occasion, Edward had opted to drive himself, dismissing Emmett to complete his groundskeeping duties.

Bella settled into the front seat beside Edward, feeling unaccountably giddy and shy, as though they were embarking on their first date instead of completing a simple business meeting. And yet, as the minutes passed, as they slowly wound their way through the city streets, she became aware of a growing sense of unease. Her knees, which at first had been lightly touching, became more primly pressed together, and her hands were no longer lying softly on her lap but were instead tightly clenched together, almost as though in an effort to keep them closed, unopened and unheld by a lover. And in her stomach, where at first she had felt only butterflies, she now felt...anxiety. There was no other word she knew to so accurately describe the feeling which had crept across her. Yet, there was no reason for this sudden tension. None that she could observe, in any case.

_Relax!_ she chided herself, hating to spoil the afternoon with her inexplicable discomfort.

She took a deep breath and forced her muscles to relax, her hands to release their white knuckled clench. And all the while, she cast her mind about, searching for a thought capable of bringing her a measure of ease and comfort.

There was but one which readily came to mind, and that was a vision of her employer's eyes. The beauty of which she now began to contemplate, keeping her own eyes closed in an effort to more fully consider their sharp detail. First, she considered his lashes, so long and dark and sweeping, like the petals of a flower, flowing round the border of the colored isle within. The center of each eye, she now decided, was as vivid and bright as stained glass windows in a church, sunlit and piercing. But above all these things, unequaled in beauty, was the gentle shape of each eye, curved and delicate, alike only to the wings of a dove.

And now she felt completely at ease, no trace of anxiety remained. She opened her eyes.

Edward was looking at her. For how long, she did not know, but she suspected it had been for quite some time. Her cheeks stained with color, thinking of her thoughts of a moment ago, and considering how foolishly in love he would know her to be if he knew but a portion of these things.

_But all attempts to hide my thoughts from him are of no consequence,_ she realized with a jolt, _because I __**am**__ foolishly in love with him. It is irrevocable, unalterable, come what may. Whatever else might pass between us, nothing can change what I feel for him. Anger and resentment cannot dilute this, nor can embarrassment or pride._

An even greater sense of happiness washed over her as she surrendered completely, giving up all notion of struggle against him. This was not the love affair she had always envisioned for herself (the old her always thinking only in terms of mild romance and vague terms of endearment) but she could not deny how _right_ this felt. How natural.

She smiled brightly at him. The car, she now noticed, was stopped at a traffic light and Edward was turned towards her. His hands were clenched much too tightly on the steering wheel and a look of worried expectation was on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Bella asked.

His shoulders, which she now realized had been held in a rigid line, relaxed and a brief chuckle escaped his lips.

"Actually, I'm waiting for you to open the door and run away." He tried to make the words sound something like a joke, but she could tell that he had said them in all seriousness.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she replied. "But I have no intention of trying to escape. Honestly, you can't still believe that I am an unwilling participant in all of this! I refuse to believe that you are that dense."

Her words only made him laugh. "Dense?" he said, still smiling. "Maybe I am. But tell me honestly, do you feel any differently, now that you are away from the house? Now that you have been gone for quite some time?"

Surprised by his words, her eyes flew wide and she took in a sharp breath of air. "But, how do you..."

"How do I know?" he said with bitter amusement. "Remember that first night, when you inquired about the perfume that flows from the vents and is present in all the rooms?"

She nodded her head, still confused.

"The perfume is pleasant, of course, but it also has a subtle calming effect, particularly for some people," he explained, his voice sounding reluctant to share this information.

Bella laughed. "And you thought this pleasant perfume was the only reason I had not run away from you before?" she asked incredulously.

He said nothing, merely looking at her expectantly, as though he waited for her to say or do something which he might not welcome.

She shook her head with another little laugh. "You won't get rid of me that easily," she chuckled.

He watched her for a moment longer and then chuckled too, the final traces of tension leaving his face.

As the traffic moved again and they resumed their drive, one of his hands slipped down from the steering wheel, coming to rest on the seat between them. They rode on in silence. His hand slowly reached for her, moving across the seat and over her thigh, coming to rest on her hands, which she still held clasped on her lap. His fingers traced the shape of her hand and wrist, seeming to hesitate for just a moment, before finally slipping his fingers into hers and taking her hand into his own light grasp.

They soon arrived at the office building, a nondescript, beige brick building tucked between many other buildings of similar description. They entered into the building's darkened, cool vestibule, and then readily found Mr. Weise's office. Down the corridor and to the left was a door with the words "Mark Weise, Private Investigator" emblazoned in gold letters across it. Behind this door, they found a typical office waiting area - complete with a cushioned, yet somehow uncomfortable, sofa and two chairs set on either side of a low, wide table upon which were numerous magazines.

A door on the other side of the waiting area lead into another office, presumably that of Mr. Weise. However, there was no receptionist present and no one came out to greet them. For just a moment, they stood silently in the office, waiting. Then suddenly the inner office door burst open and a man rushed out to greet them.

"Hello!" he boomed, holding out his hand to Edward. "You must be Mr. Cullen."

"I am," Edward stated. "And this is my personal assistant, Miss Bella Swan."

"Mr. Mark Weise, at your service," the man stated, shaking first Edward's hand and then Bella's.

His hand was soft and warm, like biscuit dough, and so was the rest of him, for Mr. Weise was corpulent. His midsection was soft and round and his face was florid. He was an animated sort of person who laughed and smiled easily. His eyes now twinkled as they held Bella's and he touched his outrageously large, bushy mustache, as though wishing he were better groomed to greet the young lady. Bella found herself smiling back at him.

"And how can I be of service to you today, Mr. Cullen?" he inquired, though his eyes still twinkled, as though this were a kind of joke.

Edward, however, cast a glance at Bella and then stated, "Perhaps we should speak in your office? In private?"

"Of course!" Mr. Weise boomed. "Please follow me!"

He walked away with a bouncing walk that was incongruous in one so heavy. Edward hesitated for a moment, turning to Bella and saying, "If you'll just wait for me right here, I won't be long."

"Of course," she murmured, yet all the same, she was intrigued by his strange behaviour. He appeared almost guilty, secretive.

She sat on the sofa and watched as Edward disappeared into the office; Mr. Weise had remained at his office door, holding it open for him. As he shut the door, Mr. Weise gave Bella a final merry smile, and then pulled the door shut. However, she could not help but notice that it had not closed all the way, catching instead on a bit of linoleum tile that was not quite level with the floor.

For several moments, Bella sat on the sofa quietly. She picked up a magazine from the table in front of her and flipped through the pages, never seeing the words or photographs on the pages. Her mind was elsewhere, in the office where Edward and Mr. Weise were speaking. Her ears strained to catch their words.

Mr. Weise's voice was easy to detect, his words easy to cipher. Edward's, however, were low and difficult to understand. From this one-sided conversation, Bella could easily perceive that Edward wished to retain Mr. Weise's services in the matter of a missing person. A woman named Rosalie Hale who had disappeared a little more than a year ago.

Bella rose from her seat, drawn to the office door almost against her will. She walked quietly and stood on the other side, with her ear now leaning towards the gap, listening to their every word.

"And you say this young lady disappeared from your very home?" the private investigator inquired, his voice now serious.

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes," Edward replied. "At the time, she was living in her own apartment, which is located within my home. The night before her disappearance was spent together, in much the same way as any other evening we'd spent together." He paused. "I trust I need not go into the particulars of our evening activities?"

"At this time, no," Mr. Weise responded. "I believe I can glean from your words and manner the nature of the relationship between you and this young lady. However, there may come a time when I will find myself in need of further information. If that time comes, you must be prepared to answer all of my questions fully, otherwise I will be unable to fulfill my duties as a private investigator and you might as well save yourself from the expense of my retainer right now."

"Of course. I understand completely and am fully prepared to answer your questions, if the need arises. But out of respect for the young lady in question, I would prefer to refrain from speaking of those particulars at this very moment."

"Very well. Please continue."

"Well, as I was saying," Edward continued, "the evening was spent in the ordinary way. At the end of the evening, I walked with her to the top of the stairs, wished her a good night, and witnessed her enter into her rooms. That was the last I ever saw of her.

The following morning, when she had not come down for breakfast, I went to her room and found her door slightly ajar. That struck me as unusual because she was a very particular woman, very keen on her own privacy and having her quarters be hers and hers alone. No one was allowed to enter or even look into her room without her permission. She was that type of exacting person.

So, as I say, it struck me as odd, and I pushed open the door and called her name. She was not there. Her things were all gone - her luggage, clothes, cosmetics - all of her personal effects. There was a note left on her dresser. It was addressed to me. In simple words, she stated that she wished to leave the home, that she was dissatisfied with the course of our relationship and wanted something I could not give to her. The note stated that she planned to return to her parent's home and implored me to never seek contact with her again. She stated that it would cause her too much pain to speak with me again and that she would prefer a clean break.

Of course, I acquiesced to this request. It seemed only fair to allow her the chance to begin her life anew, perhaps to meet someone who would return her feelings, who could love her as much as she deserved, without the taint of past...indiscretions to mar her chances."

There was silence for a moment.

"And you have never spoken with her again? No contact whatsoever?" Mr. Weise inquired.

"No. Not directly. I'd believed for the past year or longer that she was safely returned to her home and had possibly already met someone. Maybe she had even married. I thought she might have settled down to live the life she clearly wanted, with a nice young man who could give her all the things she deserved. But then, for reasons I would rather not go into now, I found it necessary to phone her parent's home a few days ago. However, she did not answer the phone, nor was she available to speak with. Instead, I spoke with her mother who informed me quite bluntly that Rosalie had never returned to their home. The last they knew, she was still in Chicago, in my home (or so I gathered from what she said) and that they had, in fact, not even spoken with her since the time she first came to my home. I was stunned. Completely at a loss to explain this disappearance. And so I have now come to you."

"Yes, I see," Mr. Weise stated, his words coming out slowly, thoughtfully. "And so you come to me. And yet what would you say if I told you that you are not the first gentleman who has wished for my assistance in locating Miss Hale?"

"I would be quite surprised!" Edward exclaimed. "But then on second thought," he stated a moment later, "perhaps I would not be so surprised. Tell me, what was the name of the gentleman who spoke with you before? Was his last name also Cullen? Emmett Cullen, perhaps?"

Mr. Weise's booming, fruity laugh burst forth. "And so, there is yet another gentleman who is searching for this young lady?" he laughed heartily again. "No, indeed. It was not this second Mr. Cullen, although I would be most interested in knowing why you immediately thought of him and how it is that you and he have the same last name. No, it was a Mr. Michael Newton who spoke with me before. I see you know the name," he said, his voice now sounding sharp and shrewd. "and perhaps it is not welcome news to hear that he has also made inquiries about the young lady?

Yet, I am free to discuss this with you because he did not wish to retain my services and, thus, never became my client. No, he only came to my office on one occasion, several months ago, and spoke with me about this matter. However, in the end, he did not wish to retain my services. I believe he was able to find the information he needed from another source, or so I was led to believe. Yet I have always wondered if perhaps he simply did not wish to answer my questions fully in regards to his interest in this woman and his relationship with her. It was at this that he balked, after all.

Yes, a little information will do in the beginning, but as I said to you, I must have more to go on eventually. And eventually, I must know everything there is to know. Otherwise, how am I to do my job? You agree?"

Edward was silent.

"Yes, I see that you agree," Mr. Weise continued. "Your face is quite an open book to me, though others (particularly the young lady who now sits in the waiting room), might find you to be more of a sphinx. Of course, you understand my position as regards my need for complete information. That is not a concern for you. I believe your greater concern is in regards to this Mr. Newton and his interest in the missing lady. Is that right?"

Again, Edward was silent.

"Or perhaps you _do_ know why he seeks to find her and this is the true source of your dismay? You fear that he has already located the lady in question and your own efforts - and the reasons behind them - will now be thwarted?"

"Perhaps," Edward replied guardedly. "But again, it is a matter I would rather not go into at the moment."

"I see," replied Mr. Weise. "Yet, you do still wish for me to search for this young woman. Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Very well," Mr. Weise sighed. "But I warn you, the time may come when you can no longer keep your silence...or your secrets."

To these final words, Edward made no reply and for several moments, there was complete silence in the office, as neither man spoke or moved. Then suddenly, Edward rose to his feet and stated curtly, "You will have your bank note in the morning, for the full amount of your retainer. And to the contrary of what might be expected of me, of you I do expect complete silence in this matter. I wish for that to be completely understood before this goes any further."

"Of course, Mr. Cullen."

"Excellent," Edward stated.

The two men began to walk towards the door. Bella quickly returned to the sofa and picked up her abandoned magazine, looking down blindly at the pages as she flipped them over, nonchalantly. But her mind was in a whirl.

_Why is Mike looking for Rosalie? How can it be possible that they are both searching for this woman? And why was Edward so alarmed to discover that Mike had met with Mr. Weise? _

None of it made sense to her at that moment.

As they entered the room, Bella's eyes went immediately to Edward. His own eyes were cast down, his face reflecting deep thought. She glanced at the private investigator and found his gaze on her. Beneath his good humor she saw a look of astute understanding and calculation. His eyes took in her reddened cheeks and her cautious yet curious glance, and she suddenly felt that he perceived much more than she might wish for him to know.

**Uh oh! Bella got an ear full that time. I wonder if she's starting to get a bit suspicious or if she merely heard enough to be curious? **

**Into the Grey House was nominated for two Faithful Shipper Awards and has made it to the final round. It is nominated for "Best Story You Stumble Across" and "Best Under the Radar." Thank you to whoever nominated it and for those who have voted for it. Voting in the last round ends 10-13-09.**


	23. On Display

**This is going to be a little dirty.**

Later that afternoon, as the sun began to set, Bella and Edward sat in a comparatively quiet corner at La Belle Fleur, a bustling French restaurant that was very much in fashion at the moment. It was a restaurant which Bella frequented often and as such, the staff recognized her immediately, tipping their head to her as she entered and murmuring, "Mademoiselle Swan," as she passed by. She greeted them in return, smiling faintly and inclining her head, though her greeting was a trifle strained, distracted as she was by Edward's distant mood.

An elegant man with slicked down black hair and crisp, starched clothes had seated them at their table - secluded, as requested by Edward - and then tactfully disappeared, leaving them in silence.

Bella watched Edward surreptitiously, sneaking glances at him from under her lashes, but he seemed completely unaware of her, silent and grave, just as he had been when he'd stepped out of the detective's office. He'd only spoken to her once since then - when he'd asked her where she'd like to dine - and then he had lapsed back into silence. It was a brooding kind of silence, as though he were in deep thought about unpleasant things. This pensive mood of his left her uneasy. She wanted to ask him so many questions, but she didn't know how to begin, especially since most of her questions pertained to his meeting with Mr. Weise. A meeting which she had very deliberately overheard, eavesdropped on would probably be the correct term, a fact which made it very difficult for her to pose questions to him. If only he would speak first, perhaps discuss some aspect of his meeting with her, then she could question him further. But in this he thwarted her. He wouldn't break his silence.

As she thought of these things, a waiter brought their drinks. He lit the candle on their table before leaving them again with a little bow. Bella sipped her wine. It was sweet and red, technically a dessert wine, but one she enjoyed _sans _dessert. Across from her, Edward raised his glass (he was drinking whiskey) and the amber liquid glowed almost red under the flickering light of the candle. As she watched, he brought the glass to his mouth, pressing his lips against the rim and taking a long sip. His mouth puckered slightly, red and luscious.

A warm flush began to creep across her and she quickly looked away from him, feeling suddenly embarrassed, as though she had done something wrong in looking at him. But she couldn't stop herself from looking back at him, just a moment later. He was watching her, his gorgeous face now lit with a look that was at once knowing and amused, as though he could read the thoughts that were passing through her mind. Did he know that at that very moment she was possessed with a desire to reach across the table and run her fingers across his lips? A desire so strong, she was forced to clench her hands together in order to control them. She fought to remain poised and unaffected, to refrain from behaving in such a manner in public, but the effort was almost too difficult. She could feel the back of her neck become damp.

As she watched, he pulled a cigarette out of his case and placed it into his mouth. He struck a match, the small flame flickering in his green eyes as he brought it to the tip and lit his cigarette. His eyes were narrowed as he watched her fascination with his motions. Very slowly, he brought the still-lit match to his lips and blew it out.

"Do you want a cigarette?" he asked mockingly, indicating the case that still lay on the table.

She blushed and looked away. "No, thank you," she muttered in reply.

She resolved to stop staring at him. Instead, she looked around the restaurant, studying the other patrons in the club.

Though it was not yet six o'clock, the interior of the smokey restaurant was already raucous, filled with the sounds of ice tinkling in snifters and brandy glasses, of patrons laughing loudly and making toasts. All around the room, men lit their Cuban cigars and ladies smoked their gold tipped cigarettes. A jazz band took the stage, filling the room with soft and slow and sweet sounds that blended with the murmur of voices. As the evening passed, the music would grow louder, faster, wilder, matching the mood of the room.

As Bella looked around, she saw a man near the front of the restaurant, standing among the people waiting to be seated. She let out a gasp of surprise and her eyes widened in disbelief.

_Mike! _

It _was _him, she was certain of it! There was no way she could be mistaken. She recognized his blonde hair. And the jacket he was wearing looked very like the one his Aunt Vera had given him last Christmas.

_But how could it possibly be him? _she wondered. _He's still in New York. Surely he would have written if he planned to come back early? He would have arranged to meet me._

She began to doubt herself.

_And yet, I could have sworn it was him._

She craned her head, trying to catch another glimpse of the man, but he was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he had left?

At just that moment, Edward laid his hand on hers.

"Is something the matter?" he asked. "You look upset."

Bella moved her hand away from his.

This was Mike's favorite restaurant, a fact which had escaped her thoughts when she had suggested dining there. He frequently brought her there for dinner and dancing. Even if Mike wasn't here, their mutual friends might be. It was a popular place to go within their group. What if she was caught holding hands with her employer? What would everyone say? Of course, she planned to break off her engagement to Mike regardless, but for the present time, it would be extremely improper to be seen doing such a thing.

She turned to look at Edward again, meeting his eyes. He no longer looked amused. He looked very nearly angry. A fact which brought her a small thrill of fear.

"Why did you move your hand away from mine?" he asked, quietly.

She bit her lip, hesitating, but then decided to simply tell him the truth. "I've suddenly remembered that Mike likes to dine at this restaurant," she answered, her voice trembling just a little. "It would be very awkward if we were caught doing anything improper."

At the mention of Mike's name, Edward's face grew grim again, his mouth tightened into a hard line. "And you do not wish to give him cause to call off your engagement," he stated, as though this were a fact.

"No," Bella countered, firmly. "I simply do not wish to be..to be labeled as...as a certain kind of woman. That's just not who I am. I have never been _that_ girl. I believe you know what I am referring to." Her face glowed with embarrassment and she paused for just a moment before continuing in a determined voice. "The matter of the engagement is of no concern to me," she stated in a calm, steady voice. "I have already decided to call it off."

"What!" he exclaimed in a shocked voice.

She raised her chin defiantly. "Yes, I'm breaking it off. I have no desire to marry Mike Newton." She met his eyes steadily. "And I believe you know why. I have told you often enough how I feel for you. You can no longer doubt me." She paused for just a brief moment before adding is a softer voice, "Especially after last night."

A slight flush came into his cheeks. "And have you written to him about your decision?" His voice was fraught with tension.

"No," she replied. "Not yet."

She couldn't help but note the sudden relaxation of his shoulders and the small sigh of relief that escaped his mouth.

"Good," he said.

Now she was the one to flush as a sense of rejection and hurt came over her. " 'Good!' " she repeated. "What do you mean by that? Do you think I will not write to him at all?" Her voice became harder. "You are quite wrong, if that is the case. I _will_ write to him. And soon. I simply wanted to speak with you first. That has been my only delay. I will need to arrange for some time off, so that I can speak with him in person. I do not wish to end things in a letter." She looked away from him, her anger draining away for a moment as a sense of sadness took its place. "After all, I do not love him as a woman should love the man she chooses to marry, yet still, he has been good to me." At this, Edward snorted, but she chose to ignore him. "I have loved him, in my own way. And I feel it would be cruel to end things in such a cold manner. Certainly, he will be angry and hurt. But whatever things he says to me, whether they are painful to hear or not, he should have his chance to say. It is the least I can do."

"You don't owe him a damn thing!" Edward growled.

Bella leaned very carefully, very deliberately across the table and met his eye. "And how would you know that?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Edward said nothing.

"Do you know Mike?" she asked, her voice insistent now.

"His firm has handled some affairs for me in the past," he replied. An answer which was much too sketchy for Bella's satisfaction and which did not truly answer her question.

"This I know," she said. "Mike told me as much, before I came to work for you. But do you and he actually know one another?"

"What makes you think that we do?" Again, he was dodging her question.

"Sometimes, the things you say, the way you react, it's almost as if you know him personally."

When Edward answered this time, his voice was very careful and measured, as though he gave great thought to every word before he spoke them. "I would not say that he and I know one another, not in the way of friends or acquaintances - or even of business associates. However, I have had dealings with him due to a confidential legal matter. Something I'm not at liberty to discuss at the moment."

"A legal matter," Bella repeated, her mind immediately going back to the missing Rosalie.

"Yes," he replied. He was silent for a moment, lost in thoughts again. The silence dragged on for several moments. "Can you do me one favor?" he asked, when he finally spoke again.

Her eyes narrowed.

"What favor?" she asked suspiciously.

"It's a simple favor, I promise," he responded, a faint smile touching his lips. "Will you promise to wait a little while longer before you write this letter to Mr. Newton?"

"Why?" she asked bluntly, very much surprised at his request.

The faint smile disappeared from his face and he looked very grim as he replied. "Trust me. It's very important that you refrain from speaking to Mr. Newton about this right now. There might be consequences...very unpleasant consequences. For both of us."

As he spoke, he reached across the table to grasp her small, white hand again. But once again she pulled away from him.

"Not in public, Edward!" she cried out. "And certainly not if you insist on playing these games with me! If you have a legitimate reason for me to delay breaking off my engagement, you should tell me so now! If not..."

She had to pause for a moment, trying desperately to control her breathing and keep herself from breaking into angry tears.

"If not, then I have no choice but to believe that you are only playing games with me," she said in a low but passionate voice. "You wish to keep me unavailable, to make me fall more in love with you everyday, while all the time you say nothing of your own feelings! Is that what you want? To hide behind my engagement? To use it as an excuse for remaining silent?"

"Careful, Bella," he warned.

"No!" she said, furiously, "I will not be careful! Why should I?"

He grew colder as her own passion blazed. If she had not been so overwrought she would have realized that she was getting very near to the point of pushing Edward too far. "Well, for one thing," he replied, coldly, "if you wish to avoid attention, you are going about it the wrong way. You are making a scene and drawing unwanted attention. But more importantly," he continued, his eyes flinty, "because I told you to. When I give you an order, I expect you to obey me, just as you have promised to do."

Bella's eyes widened at his words.

"Obey!" she choked out. "But certainly you don't mean in matters outside of...," she stopped, unable to say the word, "outside of the bedroom?" she finally finished in a low whisper.

He seemed grimly amused by her outrage.

"Of course I do," he replied in a calm voice. "In or out of the bedroom. In or out of the home. You will not dominate me, Bella. And I will never be at your command." His eyes seemed to drill into hers, his voice was hard, there was no room for negotiation.

Her breath came out in a rush. She stared at him in disbelief.

"You know what I think?" she finally said. "I think you are using this as a ruse to avoid speaking to me about how you feel. That's what I think. But why? Why won't you just tell me how you feel? Why are you so scared?"

Edward's face had now become white, hard as stone. He motioned for the waiter to come over. He handed the man a number of bills, quickly settling their tab.

"Come with me," he said tersely, never glancing in her direction. He rose from the table and strode away, leaving her to follow in his wake.

Bella followed him on shaky legs, now feeling very nervous. She hurried to catch up with him. Once outside, Edward turned right, striding past his parked car and continuing on at a fast pace.

"Wait!" Bella called out breathlessly, trying desperately to catch up with him.

His pace slowed, but not by much.

Finally, she caught up with him, jogging at his side and asking him repeatedly where they were going. He would never answer.

After several more blocks, just when Bella felt she simply couldn't trot along beside him anymore, when she felt she must rest for at least a moment, he gripped her arm and pulled her into a darkened alley. He pulled her along for several steps, coming to a stop just as they passed a flight of rickety, metal stairs, meant to be used by the tenants of the building, as a means of escape from a fire.

"Edward, what are we doing in here?" she gasped out, still trying to catch her breath.

Quite unexpectedly, he pressed her back against the red brick wall of the alleyway. He stood just in front of her, his body not quite touching hers. His hair and eyes were now set alight by the moon and the glow of the distant street lights. The silver light of the moon caught the subtle colors of his hair, playing on the strands of blonde that were nestled in the bronze, turning them a gentle platinum. It was his face, though, that stunned Bella, that chilled her to her core. She had never seen him look so savage.

"Bella," he said in a low, dangerous voice, "let me make one thing perfectly clear to you. No matter what might happen between the two of us, no matter how my feelings might change. Even if I do...feel something for you, that doesn't change a damn thing between us!" He placed his hands against the wall on either side of her and bent forward, bringing his face so close to hers, they very nearly touched. His eyes flashed with green fire as he looked into her own wide, brown eyes. "I have been clear from the very beginning about the type of man I am. I have said before that I am a hard man. I will not change."

Her body trembled as she looked into his blazing eyes. "I understand," she breathed, shakily.

"Do you?" he responded, sounding doubtful. "And do you accept that I will always be your dominant, from this time on? Regardless of anything else, despite what feelings I might develop for you? Do you agree to submit to me always?"

Her eyes grew even wider as her dream came unbidden into her mind. "Yes, Edward," she whispered. "Always."

Then suddenly, his mouth came down onto hers, kissing her almost brutally, his tongue darting into her mouth and his teeth nipping at her lips, taking her breath away.

"Mmmmmmph," she protested, trying to move her face away and press him away from her.

But he only grabbed her hair and held her in place, continuing to give her punishing kisses as he pressed himself harder against her.

"Edward!" she gasped, when he finally took his mouth from hers. "Someone might come by."

And this was very likely true. They were not very far from the sidewalk, and though they were partially hidden by a flight of fire escape stairs, this shielded them very little from traffic on the street. On the other side, of course, they were completely exposed.

"Be silent," he ordered.

This time, she obeyed.

His mouth returned to hers, kissing her deeply as his hands went beneath her shirt, lifting it up and exposing her breasts to the night air. He bent his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking at the rosy tip, making her moan despite herself. Her hands came down to touch his hair, but he pushed them away, roughly encircling her wrists and raising her hands above her head, pressing them against the wall. All the while his mouth never left her breast, his tongue teased across the sensitive nub, making her moan louder.

He shifted his hands, so that he held her wrists with only one hand, leaving his other hand free to trail down her body, down her side and onto her thigh. He lifted her skirt, reaching underneath to probe her naked lips. His fingers found her clit and quickly began to draw insistent circles on it, demanding her response. And she gave it to him. Her hips tilted up, offering more of herself to him, even as her fear of discovery grew stronger. From the corner of her eye, she saw faint shadows. She heard the scraping of feet on sidewalk, sounds that disappeared into the night.

An ember of shame began to grow in her, causing her to stiffen and press her lips together, desperately trying to suppress her moans. But Edward seemed to sense her thoughts. His mouth left her breast, coming up to claim her neck instead. He ran his lips across her skin, seeming to tease her for a moment, to make her wait in anticipation of his kiss or lick, and then he bit her, taking the soft, sensitive skin at the nape of her neck between his teeth and scraping them across it.

She groaned, unable to restrain herself any longer, as the thrill of that small amount of pain set off an explosion of pleasure in her. She had begun to tremble.

"Spread your legs," he demanded.

Her eyes flickered again to the street and she felt the wantonness of her behavior, the fear of discovery. But still, she spread her legs for him.

His fingers probed her wetness, finding her tight entrance and sliding first one and then two fingers into her, rocking his hand back and forth, making her gasp and cry out with the pure pleasure of it.

"Oh, God, oh, God!" she cried out.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?" he said, taking his mouth away from her neck in order to meet her eyes.

She didn't answer. She looked again at the street, unable to shake the feeling that someone stood in the shadows, silently watching them.

He withdrew his fingers from her and released her from his hold, instead standing just an inch away from her, watching the emotions that crossed her face with a mixture of lust and amusement.

She felt bereft and cold without his touch. A whimper escaped her lips.

Before she could stop herself, she pleaded, "Please, Edward."

"Please what?" he teased, stepping back a little more from her. She moved forward to touch him again, but he gave a curt shake of his head and said, "No, Bella. Don't move." She leaned against the rough brick wall again. "Tell me what you want me to do to you, Bella. I want you to say it. Admit it. Say it loud, so that anyone passing by can hear you. Say it!"

Her eyes dropped from his and she blushed deeply with embarrassment, but she did not hesitate in obeying him.

"I want you to f-fuck me, Edward."

"What?" he said in mock surprise. "You want me to fuck you right now? Out here where anyone passing on the street can see you?"

"Yes," she whimpered. "Please?"

He smiled now and pressed himself against her again. "Well, since you ask me so nicely," he responded.

And he kissed her again, with such urgency and desire, she lost her breath completely. Her body ached and burned for him, wanting him to take her right that very moment.

His hands cupped her ass, lifting her up abruptly and pushing her harder against the alley wall as he fumbled at the front of his pants, working to free himself from his trousers. And when he did, she could feel the length and heat of him pressed against her, thrusting back and forth. Her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing the heat of her center directly into contact with him. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

He entered her in one hard thrust, the motion forcing her bare butt to scrape across the bricks behind her. And it felt so good! She cried out brokenly, clutching at his hair and bringing his mouth to hers again, kissing him hard, her tongue in his mouth, tasting him.

"Oh, God, Edward! You feel so good! I love the way you make me feel!"

He groaned in reply, pushing his hips hard and fast against her, driving her hard against the alley wall. His head tilted back and his eyes closed. A fine film of sweat had broken out on his face. Tendrils of his bronze hair lay damp against his forehead.

She watched him, marveling at his beauty.

His eyes opened and he looked down at her. One of his arms scooped further beneath her, holding her up with just one arm, while his other hand came up to tangle in her hair, tugging on it and forcing her to keep her face turned up to his.

"You love it when I fuck you, don't you?" he said roughly, his eyes burning into hers.

"Yes," she choked out. A shudder rippled across her body.

His face twisted with dark desire even as he spoke between clenched teeth, "You're such a dirty little slut."

"Oh, yes! Yes, Edward!" she screamed as he began to fuck her even harder, pounding into her almost brutally.

"And you belong to me," he growled. "Every inch of you, every moment, of every day. You are mine! You will never keep yourself from me again!"

"No," she groaned. "Never."

"Even if I were to order you onto your knees in the middle of that crowded restaurant, even if I order you to take me into that lovely mouth of yours, right there in front of everyone, you will obey me!"

The image of this thrust itself into her mind at once. She could see herself on her knees before her master, humbly and obediently taking him into her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth. His cock sliding across her lips, harder and faster as his pleasure grew. As all the while the patrons silently watched her.

And suddenly, she exploded, in the grips of a powerful orgasm, screaming out into the night. White-hot flames streaked across her, shooting sparks to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. And her center burned ever hotter, lit by a secret fire. Twisting with cruel desires that only Edward could satisfy.

She felt his body tense a moment later and his motions become frantic, disjointed, as he too climaxed. When his body had finally stilled, she disentangled herself from him and pushed him slightly away, giving herself just enough room to lower herself onto the ground before him. She took him into her hands and began to lick him clean, darting her tongue out to swirl across the slit, licking up the last few drops of semen, and then running down the sides, lapping up the wetness there. Finally, she took him completely into her mouth, giving him a final, gentle, loving suck before tucking him back into his pants. But she didn't rise to her feet. She remained before him, her head lowered, waiting for his next command.

For several moments, there was only silence. The sounds of the city seemed strangely far away to Bella. Her thoughts were only of the man who stood before her, silently watching her, his breathing still heavy and gasping. When he finally did speak, his words surprised her.

"Oh, Bella," he whispered, brokenly. "My Bella. I'm so sorry."

**Edward! Make up your mind, already! Either tell her that you love her or just let her go!**

**Believe it or not, this particular dilemma will be solved in the next chapter. That's the plan, anyway. But Edward might screw the whole thing up, what with being kind of messed up in the head and emotionally damaged.**

**P.S. All that nasty talk and calling her a slut and all that is some kind of a turn on for Bella. That's why Edward keeps doing it. He tested her once before on this (you remember?) and she got all kinds of excited. Now he knows it's the verbal equivalent of cunnilingus for her, so he just keeps doing it. This isn't surprising really, since a lot of masochists get off on verbal abuse. I suppose it's akin to humiliation, which is also very arousing. **

**I don't know why, but I feel the need to say this one thing. The dynamics of the relationship between Edward and Bella are very interesting, and in a lot of ways thrilling, AS A FANTASY. Bella likes the manhandling and the demands for obedience. She's a masochist, through and through, and gets a little jolt of pure pleasure every time Edward shows his dominating ways. Me, on the other hand? I'm pretty sure that my own husband had better never try anything like that outside of a bedroom game. Not unless he wants to sleep with one eye open, lol. **

**Got that, honey?**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.**


	24. Dancing to Confession

The night was very dark and the alley seemed to move with shadows dancing on the walls as cars passed by on the street nearby. And Bella's mind was very like the dark and twisting shadows in the alley as she knelt at Edward's feet. Just a moment ago, she had been content here, happy in her strange way. Happy and rather warm, glowing as if lit within with love for him and giddy in her submission. But now she was only confused.

Why had he apologized to her? What did he have to be sorry for? His actions just before had not been cruel, nor had they been truly harsh - certainly not in comparison to the punishments he had given to her in the past. And so what could he mean? She pondered these things as she remained silent, kneeling before him.

He touched her hair and then her shoulder. "Stand up," he said. His hand slipped down onto her arm and he pulled her gently to her feet. Then he merely looked at her, running his eyes across the lines and planes of her face, seeming to search for the answer to a riddle in the heart-shaped confines. His probing eyes began to disconcert her, the intensity of them making her feel even more exposed than she had been just a few moments ago.

"I don't understand," she finally said, unable to take the silence any longer. "What are you sorry for?"

The smallest of smiles touched his perfect lips. "Everything?" he said, but it was spoken like a question, and he turned his head slightly to the side as if he were just as confused as she was.

"Everything," she repeated. She thought about this for a moment.

_He's sorry for __**everything?**_

And a sudden unease filled her, making her stomach feel as though it were filled with sawdust that was swirling in a wind. "What do you mean?" she asked in a voice that had begun to quaver ever so slightly. "Do you mean that you regret _everything_ that has happened between us? You regret that we have made love? That this _thing_ (whatever it is) is going on between us?"

He shook his head, his breath coming out in a heavy sigh. "You don't understand, Bella."

"Then help me understand." she said. "Do you regret being with me?"

"Of course I don't regret being with you!" he told her, a touch of impatience coming into his voice. He took a deep breath and then said, "What I _do_ regret is losing my temper with you the way that I did, and worse, for doing _this _with you while I was still so angry. I shouldn't have done this, it was irresponsible of me. What if I had truly hurt you? I could never forgive myself." He placed a hand on her cheek and caressed her tenderly, but his eyes were ashamed. "I will _not_ allow Mike Newton to cause you further harm through me. I will not allow the thought of him to cause such dangerous anger and jealousy."

His mouth twisted into a contemptuous grimace. "I can't stand the thought of him," he confessed, his face reflecting his great reluctance in admitting this. "And to hear you say his name, to know that you are thinking of him, it bothers me more than it should." He looked away from her, looking out towards the street, and on his face she could see the signs of some great struggle. Finally, he spoke again, his words spoken softly, like a secret caress. "It torments me."

He kept his eyes averted. Gradually, his face lost its look of conflict, but it became guarded again. Without looking at her again, and without allowing her to make some reply to these words, he turned away, facing instead the darkly glowing street beyond the alleyway. He began to walk towards it, speaking words over his shoulder to her.

"Let's go," he called. "We really shouldn't linger here any longer. It was foolish of me to bring you here at all."

His stride was long and his pace was quick, but he paused a moment as Bella rushed to walk with him.

Perhaps he remembered the long, hurried walk he'd led her through on the way there, and perhaps that was why he began to throw sidelong glances at her. Perhaps it was a simple matter of a guilty conscience. But whatever the cause, Bella became aware that Edward was watching her, his green eyes sliding in her direction and his head tilting ever so slightly so that he could see her face before turning much more abruptly away from her. And she did wonder about this, but there was one other question on her mind. A question of much greater weight, in her opinion.

The silent moments passed. The city street was like a spool of ribbon come undone, a ribbon that winds away to nothingness. And in that nothingness, now and then, there would shine the eyes of cars. The lights would flicker and then pass by, the passengers oblivious to the man and woman walking together in perfect silence down the sidewalk, with nothing but the scraping of their shoes to mark their passing.

Bella looked again at Edward and again she found him watching her, his shoulders set as though for a fight and his face somehow unnaturally blank. He did not wish to speak again about his jealousy, she realized this. Very likely, he regretted now that he had confessed it. However, the words were spoken and could not be undone. She now knew of his jealousy and in her mind, there could be but one reason for it. And for this reason, she could not let the matter drop. Since the words were spoken, it would be a simple thing to elaborate on, to fill in the contours of the thing that he had described to her. This jealousy and anger, this torment. What were they but the many faces of love - or at least, of a love that is thwarted, left unrequited? But this was not the case for them, it did not describe the passion that existed between them. If only he could see it clearly! she thought to herself. Because surely this love was given in equal measure.

And so she had to ask.

"Why are you jealous of Mike?" she said quietly, her eyes fixed on him.

But he merely shrugged his shoulders. An uncharacteristic gesture, and one that strained her already frayed patience.

She stopped and turned to look at him, her eyes beginning to narrow with annoyance. "That is not an answer! You know it's not!" she declared. But he still stood silent, his lips pressed together, as though he were willing himself to stay silent. "This is not just about you! It affects me as well. Don't you think I deserve something more? Don't you think I deserve some kind of an answer?"

Her final words seemed to touch him. His face twisted with a flash of something that looked like pain, and then, flickering so fast that she could never be sure that she had really seen it, flashed a look of shame.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, his face pressed into the hair that flowed around her face. And as he held her close like this, he brought his lips to her ear and whispered very softly, "If you really want to know why I'm jealous, I will tell you. I am jealous because you once loved him. But it's more than that. I'm jealous that he has ever looked at you, that he has ever spoken with you, that he has ever breathed the same air as you. That he has kissed and caressed you. And worse than all of this is the thought that you have looked at him, and that you once gave him the same look of love that you now give me. That you once felt for him the same kind of love that you now feel for me. It's killing me. It's eating me up inside like a disease."

Through all of this, Bella had listened without interruption, silenced, in part, by surprise - surprise regarding both the depth of his confession and the intensity of the feelings he was now sharing with her. But there was also another part of her that wished for him to continue uninterrupted, fearing that the slightest word from her would stop his flow of words, and that perhaps, once stopped, the words would never continue. The moment might pass and he might once again retreat into his house of ice.

But these words were too much for her to take in silence. That he could think that she had loved Mike as much as she now loved him was inconceivable. Impossible! She began to push herself away from him, stepping out of the tangle of his arms in order to look up into his face. Her eyes met his, and now they were blazing.

"Edward!" she said fiercely, "I have _never_ loved _anyone_ the way that I love you. Never! Not even _him_. Don't you know this by now?" She glared at him a moment longer, as though daring him to deny the depth of her love. But he said not a word. He only looked at her steadfastly, as though soaking up each word she spoke. "I would give up my life for you," she told him, her voice turning soft, her eyes warm.

But these words made his face grow somber and a deep sadness touched his eyes. "Never say those words to me, again," he told her gravely.

"Why not?" she demanded. "You know it's true. You mean everything to me. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

But he said nothing to this. Instead, he made a move as though to turn away from her, but she grabbed his arm, crying out, "Edward! Please say something! Can't you at least just tell me how you feel? I need to know! Do you love me or not?"

And now the words were spoken, the question was asked and very bluntly, but there was no time to regret her question now, for he had turned to look at her again. She was shocked by the tenderness in his eyes, the nearly wistful look his eyes held as he looked at her. He reached out to stroke her face. "If only it were that simple," he finally replied. "But it never is, my little Bella." The tips of his fingers grazed the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "I've learned this lesson very well. Believe me, being loved by me is a dangerous thing. Nothing good will ever come of it."

His words sent a thrill of fear through her, a strange feeling of impending doom, and though she tried to shake it off, she couldn't stop herself from feeling that there was a ring of truth to these words. She shivered again, looking around the gloomy streets as though expecting a spectre to suddenly emerge from the dark and drag her away.

_Nonsense!_ she told herself sharply. _Just my imagination running wild._

She turned her eyes to him instead.

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded, a bit more sharply than she would have done, if she had not felt that vague unease.

"What do I mean?" An edge had entered his voice. "I mean exactly what I've said from the beginning. I'm no good, Bella! Can't you understand that? Everything I touch becomes cursed. Everyone I love - " He broke off abruptly. He looked away from her again, his face was hard and set. "Everyone I love becomes cursed, too."

With these words, he was finished speaking and she could tell that he did not wish to speak anymore about this. She wanted to understand the meaning of his strange words, but realized that now was not the moment to press for answers. He was already very upset and she didn't wish to hurt him more by bringing up the memories of a lost love - for in her mind, the loss of the affection of some past love was the most probable reason for his words and would perhaps explain his strict avoidance of romantic "entanglements," as he liked to say.

Edward began to walk again and she fell into place beside him without a word. And without a word, she slipped her hand into his. He said nothing more and did not look at her at all for several blocks.

But soon he began to lift her hand to his mouth, and he would kiss her fingers or her hand in an almost absentminded way. The kisses were always soft and brief - and they never failed to make her catch her breath. She began to watch him now, watching as his face grew softer, content, maybe even happy. His eyes were constantly scanning the streets and buildings and cars, and nothing passed his notice. His curiosity was boundless and his knowledge was great. He began to point out things of interest as they walked, the restaurant they passed that looked like a dive, but served the best pizza in town and the panhandler who begged for coins now, but had once commanded an entire regiment in Korea.

"But why is he begging then?" Bella cried out. "Surely, the Army could assist him in some way, after so many years of service!"

But he only smiled and kissed her hand again. "He wouldn't accept their assistance, even if they did offer it," he replied. "He lives on the street because he wants to. It was his choice, as he likes to tell me. He could have gone a different way, but this is how he chose to use his opportunities and talent - by coaxing people to part with their money, by living always on the edge."

"The edge of what?" she asked.

"Doom," he answered. "Starvation, the elements, common violence. These are all his enemies out on the streets. Yet this is how he chooses to live. And everyday, he makes that same choice. To do it all again. I don't know what his real name is, but he likes to go by Mack. He interests me. I wonder where Mack will be in ten years time. Will he still be content to live as he does, or will he strive for something different? Will he become something else or remain a panhandler?"

Bella could not help but wonder about these things too, but she also couldn't help but worry about this man, wondering if perhaps the war had damaged him beyond the point of being able to make rational decisions.

_Perhaps it would be better to force him to leave the street? _

As she continued to ponder these things, they came into sight of the restaurant. Edward slipped his hand out of hers, he moved away, not by much, but enough to give the illusion of an impersonal distance between them. But this was not a distance that she wanted.

She stopped and turned to him, giving him a little smile. "I _do_ want to hold your hand, Edward," she said shyly, "if you don't mind holding mine. Honestly, I don't care what people might think. And if _he_ is here, that is all the better. The engagement can end that much sooner."

He looked around, glancing at the people walking past and even looking quickly at the cars parked along the street. Finally, he replied with a bit of humor in his voice, "Perhaps we shouldn't press our luck." He gave her a rueful smile "I was foolish before," he confessed. "Simple jealousy got the better of me. This is a lot harder than I ever thought it would be."

"What is?" she asked, giving him a confused look.

"Having a lover that I actually..." He broke off abruptly, his face coloring slightly. "Well, someone that I care about," he finished.

Bella looked at him and smiled, but said nothing. They began to walk again.

A moment later, he turned to catch her eye, and his mouth was turned up in the cocky grin that she loved so much. "But I will try harder, I promise," he said, a note of teasing coming into his voice. "And don't worry, I'm still capable of giving you the _special _attention that you love so much." His smile grew even larger as she gasped at his words.

They had reached the car by then and Bella stood next to it, waiting for Edward to open the door for her, But for the moment, he made no move to do so. He only stood beside her on the sidewalk, smiling into her eyes, looking as mischievous as ever. He glanced around, his eyes roaming the faces of the patrons leaving the restaurant, and then he leaned towards her and pressed his lips to her ear, whispering to her, "I do so love the sight of you across my knee, your lovely white ass turned up for me, ready for your spanking. I don't think I will ever grow tired of that sight. I believe I could spend eternity, giving you the discipline that you love so much."

And he pulled away from her so that he could look down into her brown eyes, her stunned expression causing him to break out into laughter.

A rosy glow now covered her face and neck and she looked around at all the people passing by, wondering if any of them had heard his words. Of course, she knew that this was not possible, that he had whispered the words and no one could have heard them. Still, she felt that they somehow knew this secret about her. She could think of nothing clever to say in return, her mind was blank, her mouth hanging slightly open. This annoyed her even more than his words and so she sputtered, "Well, I'm not so sure about that," in an indignant voice. "You know, I'm not very good at blind obedience. And if you think I am going to ask permission to speak every time I have something to say, you are entirely mistaken." She looked at him defiantly.

But his good mood was not so easily broken, in fact her words seemed only to deepen it. "Oh, my little Bella," he laughed. "Don't you see? That's even better. It gives me an excuse to spank your lovely bottom - something that we both enjoy so much."

She only scowled up at him, trying to ignore the hot flame of desire that his words had ignited.

Before she could think of something to say, his face grew serious. "And another thing, I _do_ want you to talk to me," he said, no trace of laughter in his voice now. "You don't need my permission to do that. Honestly," he continued, his expression contrite. "I've said from the beginning that I like your company. That I enjoy talking to you. Please don't feel the need to censor yourself with me."

She leaned against the car and looked further up into his face, her head cocked to the side as though she were considering his words, deciding the sincerity of them. "Why?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused by her question.

"Well," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I'm just wondering what it is about me that you like. Why do you like talking to me, as opposed to just, you know." She broke off, looking embarrassed, her eyes flickering over the faces of people passing nearby. "As opposed to just sex," she finished in a whisper. "In the beginning you said that was all you wanted from me. So why did that change?"

A slight smile touched his lips as his eyes ran across her face. "You don't see yourself very clearly, do you Bella?" he told her. "What man could resist you, once he knows you?" She shook her head at these words, feeling they were certainly not deserved. He continued quickly, not letting her interrupt, "But if you want to know the truth of why I've always enjoyed your company, I'll tell you. You're intelligent, passionate, and sincere. Your views are almost always unique and you are honest without fail. You say exactly what you mean. In short, you are both entertaining and truthful. I've never met anyone quite like you before." His green eyes glowed as he continued to look into her face. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

She nodded her head and looked down at the ground.

_No, that doesn't resemble me at all. I have no idea who he is describing._

Those were the way her thoughts ran, for in her mind she was nothing but an ordinary girl. And though being ordinary did not distress her - she had never sought to be anything else - still she knew that there was nothing about her that was particularly special. In fact, she thought the description more fitting of him than her. But for the moment, she let this pass, being not quite willing to dispel this notion he had of her.

"You know," she finally said, "I feel the same way about you." She raised her eyes to look at him again. "I suppose wild mood swings and strange riddles could be considered very entertaining," she teased, a playful little smile on her lips.

He only laughed at her words and then leaned forward to open the door for her. But when he did, he brushed lightly against her. A very slight motion, a very light touch, but one which made her catch her breath just the same. And when he heard her small gasp, he turned his head to look at her. They were very close now. Very nearly touching.

_It would be so easy to close that little space between us._

Her heart began to race as she felt herself torn between two desires - the desire to kiss him and the desire to be discreet, to protect her reputation against the spying eyes of those around her. She began to sway on the spot as her impulses warred, actually leaning towards him and then moving back again. But even as she struggled with her twin desires, she knew that he fought a similar battle. The contrasting passions were mirrored in his expression. But whereas she remained locked in indecision, he did not. Instead, the uncertainty and desire in his face began to change, to harden into something like sharp defiance.

"Damn it all to hell!" he said roughly, as his decision was suddenly made.

His arms slipped around her waist and he pressed his body against hers, enveloping her in his heat and scent. When his lips came down to claim hers, she had no will to resist him. This kiss was different from the many others they had shared. It was, at first, soft and searching, as they tested out this declaration slowly. But then the kiss began to change, to deepen, as a reckless kind of passion inflamed them. They began to twine together more, Bella leaning back against the car and Edward pressing the evidence of his lust against her. The two of them oblivious to anyone else.

Finally, she pulled her lips away from his, and looked into his eyes. His breath was as ragged as hers, his face just as flushed with desire. And she couldn't stop herself from crying out, "Oh, Edward! I love you so much! Won't you tell me that you love me, too?"

And just before he kissed her again, he said softly, "You know that I do."

* * *

**It took me a really long time to get this written. I'm sorry about that. Lots of stuff going on at home. Started working again, doing contract work, to pay for the extra expenses we're facing now. A LOT of running around, meeting with people, and having appointments for "discussions." Plus a nasty bout of pneumonia, and a small scratch on my right index finger that turned into a staph infection (MRSA), and then bronchitis/sinus infection. BLAH!**

**I had a lot of fun with classic gothic romances in this chapter, particularly their use of foreshadowing. Lots of creepy foreshadowing in this chappie. **

**And Yay for Edward, for finally coming clean about some of his feelings! He really opened up a lot in this chapter. I'm sure it's obvious to him that it's all going to come out sometime, with the way things are going between them. **

****Holy SHIT! 110 reviews for chapter 25! Thanks everybody for all the reviews. And thank you to everyone who's sent me PMs. I'm having a hard time finding the time to write replies, but I really do read them all. **


	25. The Great Divide

**A/N This chapter is full of spanking good fun.**

**If the smell of leather leaves you cold, if discipline and desire never go hand in hand, if pain and pleasure are**  
**not on speaking terms, then you probably won't like this chapter. Spankophiles and fellow fetish followers**  
**should smile.**

Days had passed. Days which provided Edward with ample opportunity to regret his rash words. And yet he couldn't say  
that he actually did regret them. He didn't. His only regret was that he had not actually said the words "I love you" to her.  
Because he truly did love her. This was an unavoidable fact.

He'd never been in love before. Had never wanted to be. Had, in fact, avoided it at all costs. Yet, there he was.  
Completely, irrationally in love with Bella. And though at first he had fought against it, he had long since given up that fight.

More importantly, in his mind, was the fact that Bella was in love with him. Or at least she thought she was.  
But what will happen when she knows everything? Will she still love me after she knows the truth?

Probably not, he told himself time and time again.

She would turn her back on him and walk away. And so she should. Bella was never meant to be with a man like him. She  
was simply too good. And the certainty that he would lose her love terrified him, made it impossible for him to speak those  
three words to her now. His fear kept him silent.

But what if she does forgive me for this deception, and I am sent to prison? What then?

This was an equally terrifying possibility. True, it was one he was working hard to avoid. He'd retained a detective, a Mr.  
Weise, and had asked him to track down Rosalie and the other women who had shared his home in the past.

Unfortunately, many of the women had proved difficult to track down. There were some, however, who had already been  
contacted and who had stated a willingness to speak on Edward's behalf. Regarding this, he began to develop some  
confidence, feeling there was hope that he could fight the charges Lauren would have brought against him.

But a big part of his defense, Rosalie, was still missing. So far, Mr. Weise had been unable to find any information  
regarding Rosalie. It was as though she had simply vanished. This strange disappearance left Edward unsettled, worried.  
This was not the only worry on his mind, however. Other things within the home had caught his attention over the passing  
days. Victoria, for instance. He found his eyes drawn to her over and over again.

He looked at the woman who had once been his lover, and he began to regret past decisions. He never should have  
allowed her to remain in his home. She wasn't happy, he could see that now. She was, in fact, bitter and depressed. And  
knowing now the pangs of love and jealousy, he recognized her feelings for what they were. He understood them. Worst of  
all, he pitied them.

No, she should not remain in the home, despite what words she might speak to the contrary. He could never give her what  
she wanted, she would be forever dissatisfied, rejected. And though in the past he had been able to satisfy her need for  
him through intermittent discipline and an occasional sexual dalliance, this was no longer an option for him. His interest  
was simply no longer there. It had disappeared entirely the moment Bella had appeared in his life.

And as the days passed, Victoria grew more glum, her face wan, her eyes no longer lit with displeasure or spite at the  
sight of Bella, but instead had become defeated and dull. The light gone completely. Edward hated to see these things.  
He hated to see the fire in Victoria extinguished completely, and yet what could he do?

The only option he saw before him was to let her go. He must send her from the home, give her a chance to forget about  
him completely and find a love of her own. But this was easier said than done, for at the moment their fates were tied. She  
was as much a part of Mr. Newton's twisted plan as he was. So she must stay for now and suffer with her unrequited love,  
and everyday, he must watch her grow more despondent.

But Victoria was not his only concern. Emmett, too, had become a source of worry for Edward. For Emmett had begun to  
change. The change was subtle, to be sure, but to Edward it was obvious. He had known Emmett far too long and much  
too well to be fooled by his false face, his cheerful smile, his glib remarks. There was a tension now around Emmett's  
eyes that he had never had before. A tension that showed itself most especially when Bella was the one he looked upon.  
The blue of his eyes were just as bright, but the look within had become somehow malevolent, as though his twinkle hid a  
deep malice.

But malice was not a word Edward had ever connected with Emmett and even now he didn't trust his instincts in regard to  
this. He questioned himself over and over again, wondering why he had suddenly become suspicious of his own brother,  
his greatest friend. Usually his instincts were dead on, unerring. Yet in this, he was forced to believe he must be wrong.  
Thinking perhaps that he had become overcome by his ridiculous jealousy again. Perhaps he was simply angry with  
Emmett for touching Bella when he should not have, something which he still harbored a great deal of anger about.  
Certainly, Emmett should not have touched Bella. And no matter what Emmett said to the contrary, Edward was certain  
that Bella had not welcomed his caresses.

Nevertheless, Edward accepted Emmett's explanation that he had merely been confused, mistaken in his belief that he  
had permission to proceed with Bella's sexual training. There could be no other explanation in Edward's mind.

Yet, he had begun to doubt himself in this. Was it only jealousy that made his heart grow cold when Emmett stood too near  
Bella? When he seemed to watch her with cold eyes? When malice crept into his smile, as his eyes lingered over her face  
and form? He had watched as the tension grew, knotting the muscles of Emmett's chest and arms as he watched her.  
Even worse, Edward began to believe that Emmett looked at Bella with a poorly disguised lust. He could very nearly hear  
the vile thoughts coming from the man, could hear debauched plans falling from his lips. Plans for his Bella.

Edward would send him away whenever he saw these things in his face. His words and eyes would be sharp as he  
dismissed Emmett, sending him back to his duties outside or dismissing him for the day, letting him return to his own  
rooms. Rooms that were reached through their own separate entrance at the rear of the house. And once he was gone,  
Edward would breathe a sigh of relief. The tension in his shoulders disappearing as Emmett left the home.

This, too, bothered him, for never before had he been glad to be rid of Emmett's company. Emmett had always been his  
friend, his one true companion. That he would prefer to be without him was disturbing to Edward.

And what of Bella? Had she also become a source of concern? The answer, in short, was yes. And perhaps he was to  
blame, for he had become neglectful, consumed with work, wrapped up in a project that was a particular challenge. When  
this project was not on his mind, his thoughts would turn to concerns about Emmett and Victoria and Mike. So yes, he was  
preoccupied with other things and had most likely begun to neglect her.

As the neglect of one or two days grew into many, Bella began to show her displeasure with sharp words and sour  
expressions. But though her behavior warranted punishment, Edward made no effort to give it to her. In fact, he grew  
colder. This, of course, annoyed Bella all the more. Her every syllable was laced with a challenge for him. A dare to  
discipline her. Yet he did nothing. Refusing to do the thing he knew they both wanted. For he had found himself  
inexplicably unable to consider doing certain things with Bella. Things such as spanking her or disciplining her in any way.  
But his reticence was more than an unwillingness to punish her. He also found that he was suddenly unwilling to have sex  
with her, as though these things would taint her in some way. Would make her dirty.

Ridiculous thoughts! he would tell himself. Sully her with sex? Defile her with discipline?

And the foolishness of these thoughts would assail him again, yet still he could do nothing to change them. He felt as  
though a gap existed between them. A great divide that he was not willing to cross. Even at night, as they lay together in  
bed, he found himself reluctant to take her into his arms for fear that his lesser nature would take over, corrupting his  
simple gesture of love. He kept her at arms' length, even as he chided himself for doing so.

Yet he was soon to learn the depths of Bella's determination. For she could be single minded when she wanted  
something. Her poor attitude became outrageous. She became sullen and rude, sometimes seeming to do things simply  
to annoy him. All of these things he ignored.

However, the day finally came when she truly pushed things too far, deliberately sabotaging an important business  
meeting and causing him to look foolish in front of a client. For this, she finally received the punishment she had been  
asking for - more, in fact, than what she'd bargained for.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked her, watching her struggle against the bonds that held her tight.

She was naked and strapped to a bench, ass turned up for him. An easy target for his strap.

Normally, he preferred to hold her across his lap as he spanked her. But not this time. This time, he refused to put her  
across his knee, refused to spank her with his hand. She enjoyed those things too much. She loved to feel herself helpless  
against him, loved to feel his arm across her waist, holding her steady as she dangled from his lap, and the feel of his  
palm coming down upon her flesh only served to inflame her desire. She would writhe against him, moaning as her  
excitement grew, desperately trying to rub herself against his thigh as his hand came down harder and harder.

No. He would not give that to her this time.

Instead, he gave her a very thorough whipping. And as he watched her yelp and jerk with every strike, a familiar feeling  
began to grow inside. Her tears began to form and fall, and he felt the dark desire once again. The desire that was at  
once both tender and brutal. His breath was unsteady and his heart was racing, and once again he was overcome by a  
need to hear her gasp as he took her, to hear her cry out in both pain and pleasure.

He wanted this.

And he would have it.

He lifted her head and made her kiss the leather, made her thank him for her punishment. He knew that she would hate  
this, that she would redden with humiliation, and yet he knew that this would also arouse her even more.

He watched as she began to move her bottom almost imperceptibly, pressing downwards as she tried to relieve the  
tension growing between her legs.

She would be so wet now.

Again, he felt that he was overcome, unable to resist the lure of that place between her legs. Her thighs were parted, held  
apart by the ropes that bound her legs to either side of the bench, keeping her open for him. And he knelt behind her,  
bringing his face nearer to her writhing flesh. Closer still, he laid a kiss on her bottom, kissing a mark that he had made.  
She gasped and jerked within her restraints. He kissed her again. And then again. Showering little kisses on the red  
stripes, tracing the lines with his tongue. She gasped again and shook her head as his tongue came close to the cleft  
between her cheeks.

He wanted to do this to her. He wanted to kiss this secret place.

But for the moment, he couldn't. He was overwhelmed again, maddened by the smell of her arousal. Shaking with need.  
His fingers slipped into her slit and he moaned when he felt the wetness there.

So wet and warm.

And at that moment, all he wanted was to feel that tight warmth wrapped around his cock, to feel her clenching around him,  
milking him of every last drop he had. He clenched his fists, feeling his nails bite into his skin, desperately clutching onto  
his self-control. But he was helpless to resist the lure of her.

"Do not cum," he warned as he entered her, wanting to punish her still by keeping this away from her.

This was his to enjoy.

But even as he said the words, he knew that it was hopeless. She clenched around him, buttery smooth and tight, blazing  
hotter with his every move, and his words didn't dampen that.

She whimpered softly and moved her hips just a little, pressing them up ever so slightly, as though pleading with him to let  
her cum.

"No," he told her, coldly. "You are not allowed to cum. You haven't earned that privilege. This is part of your punishment."

But this only excited her more. She began to moan, lifting her hips up to meet his thrusts and Edward had to look away  
from her for just a moment, to close his eyes and try to calm himself. He gritted his teeth as he felt himself spinning closer  
to the edge of his control. He leaned over to hiss a final warning to her, "If you cum without permission, you will be  
punished again."

Another little cry left her lips, but she tried now to keep herself still, to resist the urge to meet his every thrust. Her body  
shook with the effort, her hands fisted into little balls, sweat trickling down the sides of her face.

Edward changed the angle of his thrusts, pushing into her deeper and harder. He was very close now. He clasped her  
hips and pulled her against him, enjoying the little desperate moan that escaped her lips as he did this. He began to pull  
her hips back and forth, pulling her against him with each hard thrust.

"You really like that cock, don't you?" Edward found himself saying. Her pussy clenched around him again and a shiver ran  
across her body. "I told you not to cum, but you just can't stop yourself, can you?" She tossed her head back and forth, her  
breathing deep and ragged. "You're going to cum all over my cock, aren't you, my little slut?"

"Oh, God, no!" she cried out, as the orgasm finally took her, sobbing and shaking. He could feel the smoothness clenching  
around him again and again, the heat caressing him, making him groan and lose control. Making him cum as well.

Moments later, he stood in front of her again, his hand in her hair, lifting her head up so that he could look into her eyes as  
he pushed himself into her mouth, making her clean him off. She moaned just a little, as she always did when she first  
tasted him. Her eyes glistened with adoration. It was the adoration that shook him, made him suck in his breath. He pulled  
away from her and turned to retrieve his belt, watching her eyes widen as he approached her to give her the new  
punishment she had earned.

In the days that followed, Bella had become once again polite and cheerful, as good natured as she had ever been. And  
he, in turn, had resolved to never again let more than two days lapse between spankings for Bella. In fact, he had begun to  
toy with the idea of giving her a daily maintenance spanking. He imagined what her face would look like when he told her  
of his decision - the outrage that would color her cheeks with blushes, her futile protests and attempts to "reason" with him  
- and he smiled. Knowing that if he were to reach beneath her skirt in that moment, he would find her wet and ready for  
him.

He shook his head, his smile broadening, and he resolved to speak with her that very evening about his decision.

**I think I need to take a cold shower. Seriously.**

**I hope you liked the chapter. As always, writing from Edward's perspective is a bit of a challenge, but it's also a**  
**lot of fun. He's such a complicated guy. Equal parts angel and devil.**

**Now I have an important question. Do you want the next chapter to be once again from Edward's perspective**  
**or do you want to revert to Bella's? If the next chapter is from Edward's POV, I will delve a little further into his**  
**nightmares and reveal a very important part of his past. This little tidbit will shed light on the mystery of the**  
**fires in this story. On the other hand, Bella is very, very curious about something Edward revealed to her in**  
**The Detective. She has been looking for a chance to ask someone questions about it. Fortunately for her,**  
**Victoria is very anxious to have a little talk with her, as she has an important bit of information of her own to**  
**reveal.**

**So which will it be?**  
**Anonymous reviews are enabled.**  
**Merry Christmas, everyone!**  
**P.S.**


	26. Ties that Bind

**A/N Only lemon-esque. The inspiration for the chapter comes from Jane Eyre. Shortly before their marriage, Jane has a strange dream, which she later recounts to Rochester.**

* * *

Edward couldn't help but think he should have been prepared for this. He should have known the night would take this turn. After all, the hours leading up to sleep had been fraught with unease. A nameless premonition of coming doom had gnawed at his stomach all day, growing more certain with every hour. He believed the cause of this unease was obvious, that it was nothing more than a growing apprehension for Bella.

Apprehension was his constant companion. Always just under the surface. He feared the ringing of the phone, thinking every time he placed it to his ear that he would hear Mike Newton on the other end of the line. Mike, demanding a quick end to the arrangement, asserting what he saw as his continued rights to Bella's affections. Other times, he worried that at any moment Mike would simply appear on his doorstep, ready to test Bella's new obedience.

Bella, of course, presented an equal dilemna, for she was eager to contact Mr. Newton. Eager to arrange for a meeting with him. A meeting which would end with the dissolution of their romantic relationship. Without a doubt, it would not just be her relationship with Mike that would end, but also the one she shared with him. So now he had begun to fear a certain look that came into Bella's eyes, the look that signalled a return of her pleas to end her engagement to Mr. Newton.

Of course, he knew it all had to come to an end eventually. One day, it would all be laid before Bella. All the lies, the schemes, the betrayals. And the part he played in this treachery would be clear to her as well. When that time came, he wouldn't try to hide his part. But he had to be ready when that day came. Because it would be a day of battles, not just for Bella's love, but for his freedom.

But somehow, he never felt the proper day had come. True, he had made some headway in building a decent defense against Lauren's outrageous claims, but he would rest easier if he could locate Rosalie. Her absence had begun to plague him. Still...

_How long can I put off the inevitable?_

He asked himself this everyday. And everyday he resolved to speak with her about this. But it never happened. The problem was getting started. Try as he might, he could never find the proper way to begin. Was there an easy way to make such a revelation? What words should he speak first?

Nothing ever came to him. His mind was completely blank.

And so he'd let it drift away again. He continued to plod on day by day, praying that Newton would not choose that day to present his challenge.

_Tomorrow, I will tell her tomorrow._

It was always tomorrow.

* * *

Meanwhile, he moved on with his plans for Bella. Building a relationship with her as though he had every right to do so. She made it so easy to do, with her wide brown eyes, so full of trust and desire. Eager for his kiss and touch, his smile and approval. Burning with desire at his chastisement and discipline. How could he fail to respond to such provocation?

She was all together too tempting.

Naturally, he took the next step in this game they were playing. He made the bonds between them tighter, placing himself firmly in the role of disciplinarian and she as his submissive lover.

He made his move shortly after dinner.

During the meal, he had been unnaturally quiet, savoring the anticipation of all that was to come. He knew she would protest his decision to provide her with daily discipline. She fought her every erotic impulse, this would be no different. And of course, the sensible part of herself, the wonderful strength that was the core of her being, would revolt against the idea of totally submitting herself to him in this way. That well of pride would shout against this further show of dominance he proposed.

But despite this inner revolt, he knew that Bella craved his discipline. She needed it. He didn't understand the reasons why, and didn't see the necessity of doing so. He only knew that it was true. He had seen much the same in others of a similar disposition. She craved this, like a drug.

So he ate his dinner silently, a small smile touching his face at times, relishing the conversation that was to come.

Unfortunately, Bella mistook his silence at dinner as a sign that something was worrying him. Her small white hands shook just a little, making her coffee cup tinkle against the saucer as she put it down. She was worried about him. Her face was calm, but he knew the signs of her concern. She had begun to throw sidelong glances at him, her eyes made somehow languid and mysterious as she looked at him from the narrow corner of her eyes.

Bella was very intuitive in her own right. Several times over the past few weeks, she had pleaded with him to tell her the cause of his strange brooding. She sensed that he was under a terrible burden and begged for him to share it with her. To let her help him find an answer. Now, she thought this mysterious problem was plaguing him yet again.

Though Edward was touched by this concern, it also bothered him. It was a mystery. Surely her emotions were too deep? Her attachment too strong? That she should feel his distress as though it were her own, even given the excuse of her love for him, it seemed somehow wrong.

So quite abruptly he announced his plans to her.

Beginning the following morning, they would start each day with a spanking. She would present herself to him without protest, prepared for her chastisement. This would consist of a spanking of ten swats, given to her by hand, across his lap. If this proved insufficient to ensure her continued respectful demeanor and good behavior, the terms of the daily discipline would alter accordingly.

Of course, she colored. Quite becomingly, too. Her lips parted and trembled, as though she wished to speak, but nothing came out. Her eyes had widened, the pupils expanding as she kept her shocked gaze on him. Finally, she managed to splutter, "You can't be serious!"

"I am completely serious," he assured her coolly.

These words did not soothe her outrage.

Still, he could see the hardening tips of her breasts beneath her blouse. The heaving of her chest pressed them all the more firmly against the scanty silk material, leaving him in no doubt of her arousal. But did she know that she was not merely upset, but was actually aroused? He somehow doubted it. She was so often ill-informed about her own desires.

His eyes narrowed with a sudden lust at the idea of proving to her the true nature of her response. He could so easily take her, right here. The dining room table would make a fine stage for this demonstration. As his mind filled with these thoughts, his body stirred, urging him on with these plans.

He stood up, bringing an end to her protests. She stood as well, preparing to move into the other room. But he stopped her movements with a hand on her arm, bringing her around to face him instead. This close to her, he could almost smell the cloying scent of her arousal. He could feel the heat coming from her in waves, making him burn, pulling him ever further in, ever closer to her.

Desire was there in her upturned face, but so was mutiny. Before she could voice her protest, he brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her, silencing any further words she might have spoken. With just a kiss, the mutiny was ended. Her breath came out in a little sigh of surrender. She leaned into him, her arms encircling him, seeming almost like a flower opening towards him.

But though she was the one to wear the surrender, he felt equally conquered. As though his motions were somehow inevitable, dictated by the tenacity of her hold on him. More and more, he had begun to feel this way. He felt her pull. This power she had over him - his inability to withhold himself from her, to remain aloof - irked him. And though he acknowledged to himself that this was only the natural force of his love for her, still he could not help the thrill of rebellion that surged through him. He did not like to wear the yoke of anyone.

All of these thoughts tumbled through his mind, urging him to fight against the need for her, to prove himself the stronger one. Yet still, he reached beneath her skirt and felt the wetness there. And as he moaned with even greater lust, he reached for the buttons of her shirt.

And that was when he saw it.

The trembling of his hand. His fingers shaking ever so slightly. Shaking, just as hers had done earlier, when she'd held her coffee cup.

The mirrored vision of their shaking hands struck him, seeming somehow sinister. He looked up quickly into her eyes, only to find her eyes on his. And there, in their warm, familiar depths he saw the truth of it all. The awareness of this thing between them. This unbreakable tie. She knew all of this already. And she had accepted it. Worse, he couldn't help but think that she was pleased with his enslavement. As pleased as she was with her own. He could see the contentment in her eyes.

With a suddenness that took him by surprise, a boiling anger came over him. Anger at his helplessness.

He broke away with a violent jerk, stepping back from her as though she had burned him.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's the matter?"

But he only stood there, staring into her face, feeling stricken by the finality of it all. Like a slave, tethered. That was how he felt in that moment. But the bonds were not on his body. They went much deeper. They were much worse.

"I have to go," he whispered, his voice sounding strangled.

"Go?" she repeated.

He could hear the disbelief in her voice. Indeed, it was unusual for him to leave her embrace so abruptly.

"Yes."

He cleared his throat and tried to speak again, opening his mouth, but nothing came out. Mirroring again her movements from a few moments ago. Without another word, he turned on his heel and fled the room. There was no other word for it. He fled. Ran away from her like a frightened child.

Thankfully, she remained downstairs for a while, giving him the time he needed to calm himself, so that when she'd finally come to his room, he was ready for her. Steady. As detached from her gravity as possible.

* * *

But the feeling of unease had remained and perhaps that was what had disturbed his sleep.

It was now that magical hour, that time when the sun begins to climb the sky, burning up the night in its ascent. Edward sat in the twilight garden, smoking yet another cigarette and thinking about sleep. It would be nice to sleep. To lay in his warm bed, wrapped in softness and drifting into oblivion, lulled by the sounds of Bella's soft breath.

But sleep would elude him now. It had drifted away like so much smoke washed in a breeze and try as he might, it would not come back to him.

The dream had come to him again. For many days now, it had left. Pushed away by Bella's sweet presence. Or so it seemed to him, for the dreams had stopped when she began to sleep with him. But now they were back. Worse than ever. Bad enough to rob him of sleep yet again.

Oh, he wanted to sleep. He craved it. He'd tried his best to drift back into that slumber, but all he'd done was toss and turn. His mind plagued by thoughts he'd hoped to bury. The guilt and shame that had eaten away at him for so many years now.

He took another drag of his cigarette and then flung it to the ground, exhaling the smoke in a great puff and then watching as it floated away, up into the tops of trees and then farther, far away into the sky, up towards the stars.

And then it was gone, nothing left but a scattered, opaque glaze and a faint scent.

Edward sat motionless. Mesmerized by the drifting smoke. His heavy eyes began to close.

And suddenly, he was standing in a sea of grass, watching as the white house torched the night, flaming red against the night sky. The black smoke swirled around him, bringing cinders through the air to light on his face and burn in his lungs, as he found himself running, ever closer to the fire.

"Edward!" a voice screamed.

He was still yards away from the house when the heat of the flames beat him back. Stumbling, he fell back onto his knees, eyes round with horror and fascination. Watching, listening to the shrieking of the house as it was eaten by the hissing, roaring, popping fire.

Never. He'd never make it back inside. He'd never reach the people sleeping soundly on the second floor.

_What have I done? _he thought numbly.

He grasped his head in his hands, clutching visciously at his hair, unable to feel the pain at all as the numbness of shock gripped him.

_ohgodohgodohgodohgod_

"Edward!" the voice screamed again, and this time he turned his head to look at Emmett's anguished face. His pajamas were black with soot. His eyes were accusing.

Then somehow, he found himself in the woods again, following the well-worn path that connected his home to Emmett's. It grew darker and darker, as he ran further from the burning house. He began to stumble in the dark.

"Emmett!" he cried out.

The other boy was nowhere to be seen and he suddenly realized that he had left the path. He was lost in the woods, unable to find his way out.

"Emmett!" he called again.

There was only silence and the dark woods and the sound of his sobbing breaths.

He stumbled on, fighting through the trees that whipped at his face. He tripped across the roots of centuries old trees, fearing he would surely fall.

But then he felt her hand take his, warm and small and gentle, and he knew that all was lost. That he was deep within the dream now and unable to wake. She pulled him forward, weaving through the trees with her certain and unwavering steps.

"Come on," she said, smiling over her shoulder.

There was a time when he would have trusted the peace of that smile. But now he knew. The terror had already begun to grow, consuming the numbness of his shock.

"Oh, no," he groaned hopelessly. "No, Bella."

"It's alright," she told him as they broke through the trees.

They stood once again on the lawn, before the McCarty's burned out home. And he knew, with a sick certainty, that soon Bella too would be consumed by those flames. He'd watch her skin blacken and break away, and he'd be unable to make a single move to help her. He willed himself to wake up, trying desperately to cross that line into wakefulness, but he couldn't. His heart began to pound in his chest as he waited for the inevitable.

But then the dream took a strange turn. Unexpectedly, there stood Emmett, no longer the young boy clothed in dirty, torn pajamas. Face no longer stained with tears. Instead, he towered in front of him, his man's face consumed with loathing.

A cunning smile crossed his face and he reached out his hand to Bella.

"No!" Edward cried out, but he found he couldn't move. He was frozen in place, watching as Bella stared into Emmett's eyes, her hand slowly coming up to meet his. Her beautiful face as still as stone, mesmerized.

And somehow, though the dream had changed, and though Bella was not consumed by the fire as she had been in his other dreams, still he felt the same surge of wordless terror take control of him. The sickening sense of loss and hopelessness sliced through him, leaving him gasping for breath and trying desperately to call out to her.

"No!" Edward cried out again. "No!"

Watching as her hand was gripped by Emmett's, watching as the look of dark triumph came across his features, watching as he pulled her away, leading her now towards the deep, dark, silent woods.

* * *

**A/N This is part one of this chapter.**

**I always try to make Edward's perspective in the story read differently from Bella's. Less flowery, shorter sentences, and a little bit more, I don't know how to put it exactly. Just a little bit more like Edward, the character SM created in Twilight. A little more controlled and cool, but wavering on an edge. I don't know if I managed to do that or not. But I tried.**

**Into the Grey House was nominated for two Golden Lemon Awards. Chapter 19 (The Slippery Slope) is nominated for Best Tie Me Up and Fuck Me. Chapter 20 (Games People Play) is nominated for Most Original Position or Most Creative Lemon. Voting ends February 13, 2010. **

**One reviewer mentioned concerns that the story might be deleted. As far as I know, there hasn't been a campaign against the story. But if it's deleted, it'll be alright. I have a copy on my computer, lol. **

**Also, any offers to kiss or lick my shoes will be taken as legitimate. I will expect the person who made this offer to send me a schedule of times available to begin his/her training. But be warned, I can be fairly strict. LOL. **

**As always, I enjoy reviews. Short and sweet or long and detailed. Take a moment to leave one and I'll be eternally grateful. **

**Until next time, xoxoxoxo**


	27. In The Morning

In the morning, Bella awoke to find that Edward had already left the room. As was his custom, he was, no doubt, already seated in the breakfast room, enjoying his morning coffee and reading the trades.

She hurriedly dressed and made her way downstairs, eager to greet him. However, as she entered the room, she couldn't help but notice that though Edward was seated in his customary position and in every other way seemed much the same as usual, still there was something somewhat off-color about him. A quick glance at his face showed deep, bruise like shadows under his eyes, suggesting he'd passed a very restless night.

"Is anything the matter, Edward?" she asked as she settled into her chair.

A stern glance from him caused her to quickly change her form of address. During business hours, she was still required to address him as "Mr. Cullen" or "Sir." That quick glance of his told her immediately that she was not to stray from this previous order.

"I'm sorry, sir," she immediately corrected. "What I meant to say is, is anything the matter, Mr. Cullen?"

His green eyes held hers a moment longer before dropping once again to his paper.

"No, Bella," he replied, the very slightest trace of a smile touching his lips.

She colored a little at the obvious implication of his form of address. Obviously, it was permitted for him to address her in a familiar manner but she was required to use a formal, respectful manner when addressing him. The difference in their positions being underscored by this small detail.

Breakfast continued in veritable silence, as was normal and soon the meal was over. Victoria entered the room to clear the table. It was at this juncture that Mr. Cullen spoke to her again.

"I believe we have some business to attend to, Bella," he said, halting her just as she'd begun to rise from the table.

_What business?_

He took in her look of bewilderment, seeming slightly amused by her confusion.

"Surely, you did not forget our new morning ritual?" he continued.

Suddenly, the memory of his outrageous words the night before came back to her. His promise of daily discipline, to be given to her at the beginning of every day.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Victoria pause briefly in clearing the table and raise an amused eye to her, before discreetly turning back to the table and resuming her duties.

"But, really, Edward!" Bella spluttered. "This-this isn't necessary! Surely this discipline should only be given to me when I have earned it! When I have broken a rule!"

Edward's green eyes became frosty.

"Discipline is to be given at my whim, Bella. This is something you should understand by now," he began, his voice stern. "The purpose of discipline is to encourage and train. To instill the proper behavior. Considering your temperament and your past behavior, obviously you require a constant reminder of the consequences of your misbehavior. A reminder of the respect and proper demeanor I will expect from you."

He let those words sink in before continuing. "Furthermore, you state that you've done nothing to deserve punishment, but that isn't true, is it? Twice this morning you have addressed me by my given name, though you are aware that you should address me only as "Mr. Cullen" or "Sir" during the day."

He pushed away from the table slightly, though he remained seated.

"Come here, Bella," he ordered.

Again, she glanced at Victoria. The housekeeper seemed to be taking unusual care in clearing the dishes and food. Obviously, she did not wish to miss this developing scene. Bella's eyes returned to Mr. Cullen. He watched her silently, sternly, implacably. All evidence of his affection gone from his face, hidden.

She rose on trembling legs and approached him, coming to stand directly before him, feeling a fluttering of fear inside of her. Looking into his face, she couldn't help but notice that, despite his dark circles and look of fatigue, there was still an air of authority and power around him. It was to this that she responded, this that set a fire burning inside of her, despite herself.

"Across my lap, Bella," he instructed, planting his feet firmly on the floor, a few inches apart, creating a wide resting place for her.

Slowly, she stooped down, lowering herself across his lap. Beneath her, she could feel the strength of his thighs holding her, firm and steady. Now her vision was reduced to the polished floor. She could not judge when the spanking would begin. All she could do was anticipate. Wait for the first blow to fall.

As she waited tremulously, Victoria's low-heeled, leather shoes came into view. The housekeeper had come closer, likely on the pretext of clearing things, but Bella knew her true motivation. She lifted her head to confirm her suspicions and found that the housekeeper had her eyes on her, though she was going through the motions of performing her duties.

Edward didn't fail to notice this look. "The presence of our staff is inconsequential, as you are well aware," he stated, reading her expression correctly. "As this will be our normal morning ritual from this day forward, Victoria and Emmett will most likely be witness to this many times. That you submit to and obey me, that you are regularly disciplined by me is already known to them. And in future, it will be known to others, though perhaps they will be ignorant of the details."

He paused for a moment and then continued in a slightly sterner voice. "Eyes down. Put your hands behind your back and clasp your hands," he instructed.

She obeyed these commands quickly, not wishing to provoke him further. A moment later, his hand grasped the hem of her skirt and lifted it above her waist, exposing her firm, white bottom for the promised spanking.

As always, she tensed, flexing and relaxing her buttocks, nervously waiting for it to begin. In some ways, the anticipation was the hardest part. Never knowing when it would begin.

Perhaps Edward knew this. Perhaps that is why he seemed to delight in stretching this part out, spending long moments watching her, stroking her creamy thighs or gazing in sardonic amusement at her twitching butt. On this morning, he went so far as to stroke the mounds of her buttocks, using both hands to clasp them firmly, kneading them, and then pulling them slightly apart, so as to expose the most private, most shameful of all her secrets.

She gasped and tensed, attempting to close this off to him. To prevent him from opening her in this way, to keep this from his eyes and those of Victoria, who still stood nearby, watching. For just a moment, her arms moved, as it to unclasp, perhaps to push him away. Then she caught herself, finding control and stilling her movement.

But it had already been noticed.

"You have now earned an additional five swats. Struggle against me again and you shall earn another ten, to be administered by paddle instead of hand."

Bella moaned slightly, shivering at the severity of his tone.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she whispered, using all her strength to keep still as he continued to stroke her buttocks.

"Soon, Bella," he stated. "Soon this will be mine as well. No part of you is to be kept from me. When I decide I want this, at whatever time this is of interest to me, when I have finished exploring your other charms, then I will claim this one."

Bella began to tremble even more, knowing that he'd spoken the truth. He did intend to enjoy this part of her, wringing every ounce of dark pleasure to be gained from it. But deep inside, she wondered if she trembled from fear or excitement, and that she couldn't answer this question bothered her the most.

For a moment longer, his hands lingered, stroking and spreading her snowy globes. Then, almost before she was aware that he'd abandoned this, his hand delivered the first stinging blow.

"Ah!" Bella gasped in surprised pain.

And then another fell, and another, and another. Each smack left a crimson mark on her quivering flesh. The agreed upon ten came, followed by the additional five she'd earned. These seemed to her to be the cruelest, his hand descending with such force on her already flaming and sore backside. Tears had filled her eyes as the last of the smacks fell.

"Alright Bella, you may get up now," he instructed.

Bella rose to slightly wobbly legs, rubbing her bottom through her skirt and eyeing Victoria balefully. The hateful woman had abandoned her tasks entirely and was now openly watching her punishment. Her resentful thoughts were cut off as Mr. Cullen said in clipped tones, "Get down on your knees and thank me, as you have been trained to do."

Slowly, she lowered herself in front of him. "Th-thank you, Mr. Cullen," she breathed in a shaking voice. "Thank you for d-d-disciplining me."

And she leaned forward and lifted, first one hand and then the other, laying a kiss in the palm of each one. She saw that his pants bulged with his erection and she wondered if he would next order her to take him into her mouth.

However, despite this proof of his arousal, he seemed to have more pressing things on his mind, for a moment later, he ordered her to rise from the floor and resume her normal duties in the office. This she did, although the burning on her bottom remained with her for much of the morning, so that she was constantly reminded of the spanking she'd received earlier.

Strangely, although she remembered the humiliation and pain of the discipline with every fresh throbbing of her bottom, she also remembered the dark excitement that had come over her as well, and of the two, this was the strongest of the memories. It carried over into the day, coloring her every exchange with Mr. Cullen. Every moment, she was intensely aware of his power over her, of her own submission to him, and of a strange revelry in his dominance.

Throughout the morning, when she spoke with him, she would look into his handsome face, feeling the stinging in her bottom that he'd cause, and she would be consumed with need.

**Did anybody catch Edward's slip?**

**Short chapter. Yes. Next is In the Garden. Edward makes a fateful choice. **


	28. In the Garden

Bella stood in the doorway, looking out into the back garden. Behind her was the dark and quiet house. Even the kitchen, which was normally bustling at this hour as Victoria went about her duties preparing the evening meal, was deserted.

The whereabouts of both Emmett and Victoria remained a mystery - they were nowhere to be found- but she now knew where Edward was. He was sitting quietly on the bench in the rose garden, slumped backwards in his seat, the final embers of the setting sun burning bright in his hair.

She watched him for just a moment longer before stepping out into the garden, closing the door and walking down the path towards him.

Twilight had come. The garden was lit with a hazy, lavender light, slowly fading into grey as night crept closer. Normally, this was Bella's favorite time of day. She loved the colors of the twilight sky, the delicate pearls and purples. But today seemed somehow different. As she walked away from the house into the misty garden, she felt as though the world was waiting in a hush, with breath held, but for what she couldn't say. Only that the twilight air seemed to hold a note of anticipation. Almost menace. It left her feeling on edge.

She shivered with dread even as she felt the foolishness of it. This was how it had been since she'd first come into the house. Her imagination always running away with her. Seeing things in shadows and hearing strange noises. And the strangest, most fanciful ideas would come to her. But as always, she pushed these thoughts away, refusing to pay any heed to them.

Down the garden path she went, the cloying smell of roses enveloping her as she stepped within the semi-circle of bushes. She stopped in front of Edward and ran her eyes across his face. He was fast asleep, his face peaceful and relaxed. Beside him lay an open letter. Obviously it had fallen from his hand as he'd drifted off to sleep.

_Poor darling_, she thought fondly. _He looked as though he hadn't slept a wink last night._

She was about to turn and walk away, leaving him to finish his nap, when her eyes fell on the letter.

_This must be what Victoria brought to him today,_ she realized.

Soon after receiving this letter, Edward had left the office for the day, telling her to handle all calls until 5:00 o'clock. He must have come out here to read it.

Across the top of the page was the letterhead "Detective Mark Weise, etc." Immediately, her curiosity was ignited. She leaned forward and swept her eyes across the letter's contents. The name 'Rosalie Hale' jumped out at her.

_Rosalie Hale! The girl being searched for by both Mike and Edward! _

Of course, she knew it was wrong to read someone else's private letter, but she reasoned that this was something that concerned her too. After all, it was a mystery to her why both her fiancé and her employer would be searching for the same girl. Perhaps now she would find out. Her eyes moved feverishly across the words on the page:

'Dear Mr. Edward Cullen,

As per your request, I have begun inquiries into the whereabouts of Miss Rosalie Hale, your former acquaintance. I regret to inform you-.'

A cool voice suddenly spoke, breaking her concentration. "See anything that interests you?"

Bella, so wrapped up in the letter, hadn't noticed that Edward had stirred. His eyes were now open and he was watching her as she leaned forward to get a quick, sneaky look at his letter.

"Oh!" she cried out, startled, stepping backwards in confusion.

This would have been bad enough - to have been caught reading his letter. But then it became much worse as she somehow managed to trip over her own feet. For one humiliating moment, she teetered, arms flailing wildly, trying desperately to keep from falling. But it was all in vain. Even as Edward reached out to catch her - his hand actually skimming her arm - she slipped away from him, falling over backwards and landing on the ground with a loud "umph!" and then a short yelp of pain.

For just a moment, Edward stared at her, face blank with surprise. Then, as she continued to look up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, his lips began to twitch, very obviously fighting the urge to laugh.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" she fumed, feeling completely embarrassed.

Still scowling at him, she rose from the ground, brushing off grass and gingerly rubbing her sore bottom.

But her words did not have the desired effect, for the very next moment he began to laugh. At first quietly, as he tried to hold it back, but then finally giving way to it loudly, letting his laughs echo around the garden.

"It isn't funny!" she said in a great huff.

"I'm sorry. I know it isn't," he told her through his laughs. "But the look on your face!"

And he dissolved into laughter once again, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

"Well, if you hadn't scared me, I wouldn't have fallen over," Bella replied, infuriated.

Finally, he managed to compose himself somewhat.

"Bella, I've been awake and watching you for quite some time," he told her, amusement still in his voice. "It isn't my fault that you're remarkably unobservant. Especially when you're preoccupied with reading other people's mail," he added teasingly.

At the mention of this, her face flushed bright red. She wasn't certain which emotion she felt more, guilt or mortification. As she watched his lips begin to twitch again, mortification won out.

"Fine," she said, raising her chin obstinately. "If you want to behave so childishly, I'll just leave and come back later, when you're ready to be serious."

And she turned on her heel, ready to storm back into the house. Edward's hand snaked out fast, grabbing a fistful of her flowing skirt, reining her back in. Still, she tried to break away from him, but with a sharp tug on the skirt, he pulled her backwards, and nearly off her feet again. This time, though, his hands caught her in time, grasping her around the waist. He kept them there to hold her steady and to keep her in place in front of him, back still turned towards him

"Now, let's see what all the fuss is about," he said, a hint of humor still in his voice.

He raised her skirt to her waist, exposing her naked thighs and buttocks. All evidence of her earlier discipline had faded and it was once again creamy white and smooth, unblemished.

"Really, Edward! I am not in the mood for-" Bella began, but he cut her off, with a brief and curt, "Silence," and she had to bite her lip to stop her words.

She stood silently in front of him, her flesh touched by the early evening breeze. His long, cool fingers began to lightly caress her backside. They traced lazy circles across her skin, causing her heart to begin to race.

"Is this where it hurts?" he asked, playful once again.

"Ummm," she mumbled, trying to think, but finding it increasingly impossible to do so. "It's better now," she breathed, trying for clarity.

The tips of his fingers softly traced the curve of her heart shaped bottom, sending chills across her body, playing havoc with her emotions. The mortification of just a moment ago was forgotten, changing quickly into something much more pleasant. And when his mouth replaced his fingers, laying feathery light kisses randomly across her skin, all of her thoughts screeched to a halt, a gasp escaped her lips, and the only thing she felt was the slowly igniting ember of desire.

"And are you still angry with me?" he whispered, his lips skimming her skin as he formed the words, before continuing to place kisses on her pretty bottom. She quivered.

"Well, I-I didn't think it was – oh!" Her stuttering stopped all at once as his tongue snaked out to trace the cleft between her buttocks.

Instinctively, she jerked away from this obscene kiss - an action which won her a light swat on the thigh and a quick admonishment from Edward – and she became still, allowing him to do with her as he pleased.

And incredibly, an unsuspected world of sensuality began to unfold around her. The caress of his tongue was at once delicate and indescribably erotic. The dark furrow between her legs burned ever hotter, her sex becoming wetter with each sweep of his tongue. Her legs felt suddenly weak. Completely forgotten was her disgust and outrage at this act. And she knew she wanted more. She was overtaken by a horrible, overwhelming desire. She almost wished that he would grasp her backside, opening her as he'd done that morning, exposing all of her to the reach of his tongue.

But then, just as she'd completely capitulated, giving herself over completely to the sensation - eyes closed, breath coming out in panting moans, and hips moving ever so slightly back, a silent invitation to him – all of these kisses stopped. He pulled away and released her skirt, allowing it to fall back into place.

_No! Please kiss me again! _

She groaned with frustration. This was such torture!

And though she was certain that he'd heard the frustration and need in her voice, he chose to ignore it.

"There now," he said teasingly, instead. "Does that make it up to you?"

"Not really," she muttered, turning to look at him, face flushed and eyes bright.

But at this, he only chuckled knowingly.

"Sit with me a moment, Bella," he commanded.

With a sigh of resignation, she seated herself comfortably beside him, eyes now lingering on his perfect face, drifting down constantly to the beauty of his full lips. She watched as his face grew serious.

"I'm sorry I laughed at you," he told her. "You're right. It was rude of me."

There was nothing but contrition on his face now and she had no reason to doubt that he was sincere. And yet she believed she could detect the smallest of smiles playing around the corners of his mouth. There beneath the deep sincerity in his eyes was a sparkle of amusement. But this time, the evidence of his humor did not bother her at all. In fact, thinking it over, she couldn't help but see the humor in it as well.

_I probably did look funny._

Her mouth began to curl up at the corners and with a little laugh she replied, "I suppose I can't blame you for laughing. Honestly," she confessed, "my pride was hurt more than my bottom. I'm sorry for being so crabby."

She leaned forward and placed a small kiss on his cheek. "Forgive me?"

"Of course," he replied with a small smile.

His eyes fell on the letter he'd caught her reading and a warm blush came into her cheeks. She waited for him to chastise her. But instead, he merely lifted the letter and read it again briefly before saying in a somber voice, "Mr. Weise, the detective I hired, has written to me. An update on the matter I'd hired him to look into."

He looked up into her wide, brown eyes. They were fixed on him silently, expectantly, waiting now for the answers to her many questions. All the ones that had plagued her since she'd first overheard his conversation with the detective. Now perhaps they would be answered.

"Of course, I've never discussed this matter with you. It seemed best to keep it private. The fewer people who knew about it, the better. But I believe the time has come to share some of this information with you. After all, it does concern you in some ways."

Bella said nothing, not wanting to interrupt his flow of words.

"I hired Mr. Weise to locate a former acquaintance of mine," he continued. "A woman named Rosalie Hale." He glanced at her meaningfully before saying, "I don't believe I need to explain the nature of our relationship to you. You're familiar with my peculiar tastes, my _sexual_ tastes," he clarified.

Bella looked at him impassively. This was not new information for her. The nature of the relationship between Edward and Rosalie had already been made clear to her when she'd overheard the conversation between him and the detective.

Edward's eyes swept over her face, reading the expression there before continuing, "Miss Hale lived here for a brief period of time, in the upstairs apartment. Her stay with me followed a very familiar pattern, at least at first.

"She'd been recommended through a mutual acquaintance, a man who shares my tastes and who knew of her submissive interests. We met and I found her to be a beautiful and intriguing young lady. A bit high strung and flighty, perhaps, but her desire to submit and serve was strong, despite her haughtiness. And she was a quick study, learning the ways of pleasing her masters easily. In all of these things, she was completely pleasing. But-"

He broke off abruptly and she wondered what he'd been on the brink of revealing. She held her breath and silently encouraged him to go on, hoping that he would tell her everything.

"There were other issues which soon made her stay problematic, fraught with tension for all in the home," he continued vaguely.

Bella sighed with disappointment. Obviously, he was not prepared to reveal all of his secrets just yet.

"In order to preserve the peace, I was prepared to send her away. Although I knew," he added with a wry smile, "that this would not be easy to do. Any such discussion with her was bound to end in tears and angry words. Rosalie was always so fond of melodrama."

And though his words were critical, they were said with a hint of affection, something which Bella noted and couldn't help but feel a thrill of jealousy about. Her eyebrows came down in a small scowl.

Edward noted this and continued hastily. "But then, just as I'd resolved to speak with her, to arrange for her safe transport home to her family and her former life, the matter seemed to resolve itself. You see, she simply disappeared one night."

"Disappeared?" Bella exclaimed, surprised.

"Yes, disappeared, leaving only a note behind. I had misgivings at the time. This was not at all her usual style. I thought that Rosalie would have preferred a huge, theatrical scene, complete with tantrums and tears, before storming out of the house. To have left in the way that she did, well..it seemed unlikely, strange."

He looked down at his hands, pressing his long fingers together absently, his face a study of regret.

"I'm ashamed to say that, despite these misgivings, I let the matter go. I made no inquiries after her. Never followed up to be certain that she'd had returned home safely." His voice dropped lower, filled with self-disgust. "In short, I simply put her out of my mind. Behaved like a cad. You see, I was so pleased that a thorny problem had been so easily resolved for me, with such little effort on my part. And now, whatever has happened to her, whatever misfortune has befallen her, can be laid at my feet."

Bella gasped. "_Has_ something happened to her? Is that what the detective wrote to you about?"

"Not exactly," he replied, with a small shake of his head. "Mr. Weise has nothing definite to report. And that, to me, is much more ominous. Her fate remains a mystery. She has simply vanished." His green eyes took on a haunted quality. "Rosalie is nowhere to be found. No one has heard from her since she left my home. Not her family or any of her friends. In fact, they seem to believe that she is still here with me. There's no trace of her anywhere, no trail to follow, nothing outside of this home."

"But why do you feel you're to blame for whatever has happened to this girl?" Bella reasoned, concerned by his tone. "How could you have known that she wouldn't make it back to her home safely? After all, she's an adult. She can come and go as she pleases."

At first, Edward said nothing to this. He sat in deep thought before finally replying, "Perhaps you're right. Rosalie is a capable, intelligent young woman. I had no reason to suspect that she wouldn't find her own way safely back home. Nevertheless, I would have, under normal circumstances, looked into the matter. She was here, in this home, at my request, under my protection. It was my responsibility to see her safe return. And I failed."

Bella considered this for a moment. She could understand his concern. In fact, it did seem strangely out of character for him. And though this was a mystery that she'd like to understand better, there was something else that concerned her more.

"But Edward, if something really has happened to her, won't the police come here? Won't they believe that you're to blame for whatever has happened?"

"Perhaps," he replied, though he did not sound as concerned as she believed he should. "However, I have her letter and the word of my staff to verify that she is not here and that she left on her own. And if that is not sufficient," he shrugged his shoulders as though this was a matter that did not concern him very much, "well, they are free to search the premises. They can look all they want. She isn't here. And I certainly had no reason to harm her. Miss Hale was a very, erm, accommodating young woman. Force was never needed."

At this, Bella looked up at him sharply and he had the grace to look uncomfortable. He turned the conversation into a different direction.

"In any case, for reasons I can't tell you right now, the mystery of her whereabouts has been a burden to me for more than one reason. It has kept me from pursuing my heart's desire."

"I don't understand," she said, confused.

"I know you don't understand what I mean. And I'm sorry about that. I wish I could explain it all to you right now, but I can't. But understand this." He looked deeply into her eyes. "I am determined, now, to pursue this. To have the person dearest to my heart."

He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the ends of her fingers, but she didn't feel it. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Bella's heart had begun to pound wildly at his words. So many times in the past, he'd come close to declaring his feelings for her, but he'd never really said the words. And deep in her heart, she'd begun to suspect that the reason he couldn't say the words was because they were not true. That, though he felt affection for her and took a great deal of pleasure from her body, he simply didn't return her feelings. This seed of doubt plagued her. She tried to ignore it, but it was there.

So perhaps her reaction to Edward's words was not so unusual. For, as he spoke, she was seized with the horrifying idea that he meant some other woman. Perhaps a beautiful woman from his past. A tall, statuesque beauty, with porcelain skin and china blue eyes, hair like red gold streaming down her back. She pictured this phantom woman in her mind with such detail, she almost became real for her.

And she could also envision herself in the future, determined to stay on in the household in whatever capacity. Begging to be kept on, as Victoria had. Reduced to the level of servant to Edward and his new bride. Her stomach soured, turning sickeningly.

"And do you wish for me to continue here, as your…assistant," she whispered, voice husky with pain.

"No," Edward replied. "I'm afraid that won't be possible right now." A note of concern had come into his voice. "We'll need to quit this place for a while, perhaps for a week or two. Then I'll arrange to leave my bride somewhere safe." He paused and then seemed to correct himself, "Somewhere pleasant, of course. Where all she will need to concern herself with is which path to hike that day or which patch of garden to tend, while I return to the city to work and to deal with whatever might come." He gave her hand a little squeeze.

"Of course," Bella murmured. "Your honeymoon. And I suppose your bride would not agree with keeping me on." She nodded her head, eyes downcast, trying to hide the tears that had come into her eyes. "I understand. Of course, I'll get my things together and prepare to leave."

Edward was silent for a long moment. She couldn't bring herself to raise her eyes to read his expression, but his silence filled her with dread. She waited, expecting him to reply at any moment, telling her to go gather her things at once. But instead, what he said was,

"What are you talking about?" He finally said, sounding completely confused.

"When your bride comes, I will need to leave, of course."

He gave a great sigh of exasperation. "Bella, my love, _**you **_are my bride. If you will have me, of course," he added.

She looked up at him at these words, in complete disbelief. Was he saying-? It couldn't be!

But then he placed his hand on her cheek and turned her face towards his, pulling her even closer as he moved, bringing his own face nearer to hers. He looked into her eyes, his green eyes glowing, not with lust or with power, but with love. Unmistakable love. Slowly, he leaned forward to press his lips softly against hers.

Bella had received many kisses from Edward since she'd first come into this home. She'd had passionate kisses and angry kisses. Even cold and controlling kisses. But this one was completely different from any of those. This kiss was tender and gentle, filled with nothing but love.

He pulled away from her and said, "I know I have no right to want this. You are much too good for me and deserve so much better. Someone who is just as good and honorable as you -"

Bella placed her hand across his mouth to stop these words.

"Hush," she whispered. "You're talking about the man I love."

He reached up and moved her hand, placing it instead on his cheek.

"I love you, Bella."

Her heart leapt in her chest. She felt like she could breathe again.

"You do love me?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"And I'm the one you want to marry?"

He smiled, relieved that she finally understood. Very slowly, he stood up, towering over her for just one moment, before lowering himself onto the ground, kneeling at her feet. He lifted her hand and stated, "I'm not really prepared for this, I'm afraid. I don't have the ring. But we can take care of that later. Right now what I want, _all_ I want, is to know that you will truly be mine. That I can keep you with me, safe and happy and loved forever.

"Bella, I told you once that you were like an angel, and you are. You're my angel. The one good and pure thing I have in my life. Please say that you will stay with me, be my wife, and make my life complete."

Bella looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity there. What he was saying was the truth. He loved her. Loved her just as passionately and deeply as she loved him. And yet his love held more than passion. There was also tenderness and true affection there.

She couldn't hold him in suspense a moment longer. "Yes, Edward. Of course I will marry you." She couldn't help but laughing as she said the words. Laughing with pure happiness.

And Edward was laughing too. He stood and brought her up to her feet, pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her almost too tightly, before bending his head down to kiss her mouth. And when he pulled back, she saw that for once his face appeared at peace. The strain, the struggle she'd seen there for weeks was now gone, replaced with a great calm and contentment. This difference made him – hard though it was for her to believe – even more handsome.

**This chapter references several different scenes/chapters. From Twilight, there is the scene where Edward carries Bella on his back, through the woods. When he puts her down, she falls, sending him into a fit of laughter - which really irritates her. **

**From New Moon, there is the scene near the end where Bella is being a real ninny, acting so dense about Edward's love. I mean, how could she not know!? But there is a similar scene in Jane Eyre and I wanted to recreate it in some way, in order to pay homage to both and stay true to the original idea behind this story. However, in Jane's case, the misunderstanding is entirely Rochester's fault. He set it up intentionally and she was completely justified in her reaction. **

**So, in Jane Eyre, Rochester makes a daring choice, deciding to spirit Jane away with him, and damn the consequences. **

**Poor Mr. Rochester. Things didn't turn out quite the way he planned, did they?**

**Thank you for continuing to read. Please leave a review.**


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